#and even while being interviewed tends to look to the side;;;;;; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zeldasnotes · 1 year

Text

The Rising Signs’ 🦢

In The Signs Series™

ARIES RISING

Looks tense like somebody just said something stupid. A lot of them have a widows peak or just a very square hairline to draw attention to their head. The hairline can sometimes be so good it looks like they are wearing a wig, and not only in the forhead but the whole hairline even behind the ears looks super good. They can have a high forhead like Rihanna whos an Aries Rising. There tend to be a ”bitchiness” to them but at the same time they got this innocence to them. Some of them have a babyface while some of them have a more sharp and angular look. Men with this rising sign can have hairline shaped like an M. Might also start to bald early. Some of them might have red tints to their hair or beard and freckles are also common(depends on cultural background tho) Might have oily skin or very ”leather” like texture to the skin. These peoples hair is usually very prominent which is who they can easily be mistaken for a Leo Rising. If they have a lot of Mars squares in their chart they can be very confrontational with a lack of filter. They look very good in anything sporty and tight. These people might have people wanting beef with them because they can come across as cocky or rude when they are not. There is something very respectable with them especially when they have a Capricorn Midheaven. Like you really want them to like you. They also have the most gorgeous eyebrows and face shapes. There is this ”Since nobody else will, I will do it.” They are the ones who might stand up for someone when nobody else does. The real go getters. Unfortunately might be involved in a relationship where they have to do anything because people expect them to.

TAURUS RISING

A lot of Taurus Risings have the Taylor Lautner look with the smaller eyes and short nose, very ”cute” but there is also the Taurus Risings with the longer look like Jake Paul and Robert Pattinsson with the prominent long chin and the small ears. The longer types are usually skinnier with a longer nose while the short nose ones are usually heavier built. If the Ascendant is conjunct fixed star Algol the look can be very intimidating and the person might be more aggressive in both appearance and behaviour like Conor McGregor whos a Taurus Rising. The women with this Rising are very often praised for their good looks like Halle Berry. They have the that calm feminine aura to them. There is a strength to Taurus Risings in a way that they look very kind but at the same time you can see that there is a raging bull inside of them ready to put someone in their place. For example Snoop Dogg whos a Taurus Rising, super kind and funny but very quick to show it of he find an interviewer or fan annoying. These people can have a skin thats completely flawless. They usually have extremely even skintone. They can also have those super small pointy ears. A lot of Taurus Rising look curvy even if they are skinny and if Lilith is on the Ascendant the curves can be very pronounced for example Megan The Stallon. There is always something about the nose that stands out and a lot of them might want to highlight it by having a nose ring. The neck can be very thick and short or super slim and long and they like to show the neck of by wearing a chain. Taurus Rising is found in a lot of criminals especially when it conjunct the violent star Algol.

GEMINI RISING

There can be a roundedness to their features but still pointy? Look at Pamela Anderson and Jessica Biel for example they are both Gemini Risings, very round but still pointy. Can have a cleft chin or a cleft on the nose to show ”hey im parted” or a mole on only one side of the face but very close to the middle of the face to show ”here is where the other side of be begins”. The mouth can be very shapely and while closed might give of the look of an M. Like the opening of the mouth is shaped like that when the mouth is closed instead of just being one straight line. Might remind you of a bird in some way. Some of them stand and walk with their feet pointing outwards like a bird. The upper body can sometimes be larger than the lower body and legs. The nosestrils might not be visible unless you are standing below them. Might color their hair or change hairstyles very often. The Gemini Risings with a longer face usually have a slightly bigger nose like Lady Gaga and Amy Winehouse who are both Gemini Risings. Gemini Risings from a cultural background where big noses/roman noses are not common usually have a rounder face shape with a very ”bent” nose instead. A lot of them have this slightly sneaky look like Drew Barrymore like they just did something very naughty. A lot of them have a signature hairstyle or signature makeup look that makes it easy to know its them. Like Pamela Anderson and her messy bun. If someone said ”paint this person” its easy to paint them and everyone will know who it is. They look good in parted hairstyles and midpart to show that there is two sides to them.

CANCER RISING

Very glossy hair, can look veeeery kind just like pisces rising. Some of them look ”wet” like super hydrated. The iris of the eye is close to the inner corner of the eye. There are two types of Cancer Risings: 1. The ones with the more round face, usually lighter skintone than other family members no matter cultural background, smaller facial features, sneaky eyes, shorter hair, curvy. And type 2. Skinny, darker skin than others from the same ethnicity, longer hair, longer face and big forhead, a longer nose and sometimes a roman nose. Larger eyes than the round faced Cancer Risings. The Cancer Risings with the long face are usually less shy and can be very outgoing while the roundfaced Cancer Risings usually have a more shy personality and they are also more calm personality wise. Type 2 are usually very funny and seem to smile more than type 1. Cancer Risings also have a special relationship to children. They are warm people and when they form connections they want it to last for life. These people can suffer from some very intense moodswings tho. Cancer Rising men come in the same 2 different types too but here the round faced ones are often the more outgoing ones while the longer face ones are less social. Cancer Rising men can often have a M shaped hairline with a very defined widowspeak. The eyes can sometimes bulge out. The round faced Cancer Rising men are usually very into fitness and might have a very defined jawline. There can be some intense issues with masculinity and self esteem in these men since at an early age they knew they were sensitive which was not considered ”manly”. Some of them seek out a mother/father figure in their relationships.

LEO RISING

These people are very confident and might even come across as bitchy. They come in two similar types as Cancer Rising, Selena Gomez obviously being type 1. They take a lot of pride in their hair. Some of these people might have hair so long it touches their butt, but there are also Leo Risings who rock the shorter hair, for example Tina Turner. The Leo Risings with shorter hair might have thicker hair from what Ive noticed. They can have a feline look to them and some of them can have this cute cozy look like Selena Gomez. If afflicted the ego become a real issue here and they might start to compare themselves with everyone around them which can make others back off from them. Men with this rising sign might want to have long hair and you can often see them with a bun. These people love to be seen and might start acting weird when focus is not on them. They love to show off and they love the feeling of being the center of attention. When younger they might be loud or even annoying to get this attention but Ive also seen a lot of very shy Leo Rising. There are a lot of ”cat” looking Leo Risings like Emma Stone with the cat eyes and wider face and prominent cheekbones, but not all of them got that feline look. Jessica Alba for example does not look feline at all and shes a Leo Rising. They love fashion since its their way of expressing themselves and they absolutely love looking good. A lot of them love leopard print. They absolutely love brand name clothes and anything quality since they are a fixed sign. They look sooo good in sunglasses, orange, gold and beige.

VIRGO RISING

Think DOLL. There is a perfection to these people that can be almost creepy. I have a Virgo rising friend and I swear that every single hairstrand on her head is the exact same length. Her hairline is so perfect it almost look like she shaved it. These people are youthful but not in a childish way. The skin can be very perfect too. They are very refined almost to the point you feel ashamed cursing infront of them. Very well groomed. They are ethereal just like their sister sign. Their shyness will often be mistaken for being snobby or arrogant tho. This is something ive noticed with a lot of Virgo Risings, being accused of being arrogant. Some of them are tho since Virgo is a very picky and judgmental sign but most times they are just shy. Their personality infront of people they feel safe with and people they dont differs a lot. There is a charming quality to their mouth and to the way they speak. A lot of them prefer a more natural look and might look better without makeup than with it. There is a ”perfection” here that is impossible to copy. No matter what they wear it looks neat and tidy. They usually have sensitive stomachs so they have to be careful what they eat and ofc they are. They look smart and the eyes can be penetrating but not in the same way as scorpio risings. They dont have that ”I will expose you look” like scorpio risings have they have more of a ”I know what you are doing but I feel bad for you” look. They need to be careful not to be too perfectionistic and picky tho since this can have a very negative effect on their self esteem. There is very often a huge issue with the self esteem with this rising sign. These people might not be approached often because they look ”out of your league”. The head is often diamondshaped.

LIBRA RISING

Looks like they thought of every detail. Not a hair out of place. Ive seen a lot of Libra Risings and they all looked so different tl eachother. I think Libra Rising is the rising sign most affected by their chart ruler sign because they all looked like that sign. But they all had söme things in common and that was flawless skin, symmetric face, nice body with evenly distributed fat. They were also friendly and polite. They spend a lot of time perfecting themselves because these people care a lot about how they are seen. When you see someone and you instantly see think ”that probably took a long time” then most likely a Libra Rising. They know their flaws and they know what their best features are. These people are born stylists. Knowing what need to be hidden and what to highlight comes naturally for them. Not all Libra Risings care this much about appearance tho. And its not always about them being vain, its just that looking presentable is important for them because they are the socializers and they just want to look nice. For them its a sign of respect too. They would never show up at your party underdressed because for them thats disrespectful to YOU. So its not only about themselves. A lot of them have a strong cupid bow and their mouth might even be shaped lile a heart. The outside corners of the mouth are always pointed upwards making them look like they are always smiling. This makes them seem very friendly and makes people approach them easily because you can see that this person wont diss you. Them being so approachable blesses them with a lot of social contacts. They might have dimples either on the lower back or on their face. They can also have a mouth thats always slightly open.

SCORPIO RISING

A lot of teeth showing when they talk, almost looks like they are talking with their teeth, gummy smile and sometimes vampire teeth. Can look very different from other family members for example light skin that cant tan while living in a warm country or dark skin while rest of the family is pale and living in a cold country. Remember that pluto rules being the black sheep of the family so this rising have a high possibility of looking different than other family members. Eyes are impossible to miss because they can be very small or very big. Usually framed by a shadow or darker pigment around the eyes, like they were born with eyeshadow. The scorpio risings with the smaller eyes usually have extremely arched eyebrows and a pointy small nose while the ones with the larger eyes have less arched brows and instead usually have a rounder nose OR a roman nose. There is also the scorpio risings with a more square face and square shaped nose. Some of them have a protruding brow bone giving them a predatory look and adds to the shadow around their eyes. The guys can have a prominent, low hairline and sometimes it almost look like the hair is a helmet. Can also have very pointy ears. Moles and beautymarks. Very good at talking with their eyes. They like to watch people and especially people who they are intimidated by. They cant hide envy, their eyes turn all reptilian when they envy someone. Good at having a conversation without revealing anything about themselves. You talk to them for 2 hours only to leave without knowing anything. Might smile without saying a word when you talk to them, making the conversation uncomfortable.

SAGITTARIUS RISING

There is always something with the walk here. The walk might be extremely attractive and model like or they can be super clumsy, or both. These people will definitely have others noticing them because of how they walk. They are naturally funny without trying. They might look super tall from far away even if they are short because their legs are usually longer than their upper body. They can have a horse like look to them like Kim K. With a longer prominent nose and a oval face. But there is also Sag Risings with a more round or even square face. The Sag Risings with the round or square face usually have a wider forhead and smaller nose. The butt and breasts might be very pronounced and protruding here making them look curvy even if they are not. Might have a protruding belly. The smile will be one of their best qualities. They might walk a lot or just be outside all the time. These are the kind of people who are almost never home. Gen Z Sag Risings might be very different tho since a lot of them have Pluto in the 1st house. These people can be very reckless and sometimes dont think about consequences. They come across as super friendly and have an easy when it comes to interacting with people. These people can be extremely popular especially if mixed with a strong Venus influence. A lot of the most popular people in the world got this rising sign like Princess Diana, Bob Marley, Elizabeth Taylor, Kim K. They just attract attention wherever they go.

CAPRICORN RISING

The arch of the eyebrow starts at the very end of the eyebrow. Looks like they hade work done. Could get wrinkles and grey hair early or have no wrinkles at all at 70, usually one or the other. The hairline on the side can be close to their eyebrows. Looks like they are squinting their eyes to see you better. They usually dont like people who act innapropriately in public and they will show it. Very well mannered and aware of social codes. They care a lot about who they are seen with in public. Very scared of public humiliation. Can look very tired. Might come across as rude. The hair is usually gorgeous and very thicker than others from the same cultural background. Can have a very prominent t-zone. Might have a bigger chin or just very prominent shape. They can also have creases on the sides of their mouth instead of dimples or hollow cheeks. The cheekbones are prominent and high. They look aristocratic. Some of them have very small ears with a pointy top. They can be very petite and have a thigh gap. The teeth will also be prominent and might even protrude making it hard for them to close their mouth completely. Their face change a lot until they reach their 20s thats when they start to grow into their looks(this does not mean they didnt look good before tho). A lot of them experience skin issues but since Saturn rules ”You reap what you sow” they have the possibilty to have really good skin if they take care of it well. The younger years are usually difficult and they might suffer a lot with their self esteem. The best part of their life starts after their Saturn Return. The corners of the mouth usually point downward making them look less approachable but also makes them look serious. They look like they are someone important.

AQUARIUS RISING

These people always have striking eyes. They look tall even if they are short because the limbs are usually long. They can have some very uncommon physical features like super light blue eyes with darker skin tone while everyone else in their family is light, or jet black hair mixed with super pale skin making them look like they colored their hair. Might be hard to guess which country they are from. Some of them can have such a unique look to their eyes that you think they are wearing contacts. Definitely striking. Some of them have a very long chin. The hair have a tendency to stand right up even if they have straight hair almost like they were electrocuted. They can have a very shocking style and they usually have their own look like Nicki Minaj for example with her bangs and pink hair. They look so good in neon colors. Some of them have a shocked expression like Jared Leto. Something about the body language, way of talking or way of thinking might be considered unique and people easily become fascinated by them. The eyes can also be downturned at the outer corners. They could be asked where they are from a lot just like Sag Rising. They are usually popular because they are social and easily gets to know new people. They have this friendly ”I know everyone” aura mixed with their down to earthness just look at Barack Obama. They can have an interesting mix of sharp and soft. The cheeks might be shubby paired with a pointy nose or slim and bony faced with a very rounded button nose. Some of them have a baby face. They might be taller than average or shorter than average.

PISCES RISING

These people have a vulnerability to them. They might look sad or tired. They might have the bedroom eyes like Marilyn Monroe who had Neptune in the 1st house. The lips and eyes are their strongest features. Some of them could even be accused of being on drugs, look at Billie Eilish and you know what I mean. They can look unreal because they have this Disney Princess look sitt the glossy eyes and helpess expression. Some of them even have the baby voice to go with the look. A lot of them look younger than they are and can have that little babydoll look like Barbara Palvin. People might overshare to them a lot. They look much more innocent than what they actually are and people might be disappointed when they find out they were not that helpless damsel in distress. There is usually rumours about them because people cant figure them out so they have to talk about them. They might be quiet when around a lot of people and then super talkative when around people they are comfortable with. Dark circles under the eyes are common too, adding to the sleepy look. The lips might be naturally pouty. The eyes are watery. These people absorb energies easily and they need to learn that not everyone should be trusted. They feel bad for people easily and people can see this. The eyelashes can be longer than average like Zayn Malik whos a pisces rising. They could also have a lot of baby hair forming a natural gloria as the little angels they are. Some of them look glittery because the eyes are watery and the skin is usually watery so everything just shines and glows. Usually shorter than average. The Bratz Dolls of the zodiac.

Aspects to Ascendant is not taken into consideration in this post. Aspects to Ascendant and planets in the 1st house can make you look different than your Ascendant sign. ❕

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #ascendant

4K notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 6 months

Text

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 1

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

You stayed hidden in your racing suit. Your current team-mate didn't even know who you were, like the rest of the grid. It was fun being all secretive and undercover. You didn't drive with your real name, and when your radio was aired it was only text. You could actually live like a normal person with no pressures. You didn't have to attend post-race interviews, or feel the pressure of the Paps everywhere you went. There was a certain level excitement of getting your first race win and being able to reveal to the grid who you were.

When you'd first been introduced as 'Ghost' people were confused at why you weren't using your real name. But you, as Y/N Y/L/N were always seen in the paddock and garages and you knew some of the drivers and they would often invite you to the after parties.

I mean you were posed as the media manager for 'ghost' which in itself was hilarious. You could post your own memes, and comment on your own driving. It was amazing.

However your home race, United Kingdom Silverstone was coming up.

You were so excited, even though you knew Lewis, George and Lando would be just as hyped up as you for the win. But this was the most motivated you'd been. Your family were in the crowd, the only people who knew it was you behind the helmet.

"Oh Oscar Hi" you greeted the other young driver.

"Hello" he said his thick aussie accent coming through.

"How's the ghost today then?" he asks, you'd been close for a while. He was actually your first friend here, it was funny actually how you bumped into him.

"You'd just finished up in Australia and had gotten your first podium finish in your rookie season. Oscar had been there as a reserve driver for Alpine and as you were fumbling in your drivers room, trying to rip your driving suit and balaclava off. You were making a lot of noise, and you'd tripped over yourself. You slung on your Alpine Team gear, tying your hair up in a ponytail and hiding the sweat under a cap.

A knock on your door had you stilled, you shoved the suit into a crate and moved across.

"Hello?" you'd asked swinging the door open, he jumped back a little seeing how quickly the door opened.

"Erm, hi isn't this Ghost's room?" he'd asked you. He was the reserve driver for Alpine and that's who ghost drove for in their first year.

"Your are not supposed to be here" you'd frowned looking at him.

"I know, but the engineers said i might find you here, to go answer some questions on Ghost's behalf, considering his er win today" he smiles awkwardly at you scratching the back of his neck. He watched as you eye him over.

"Who sent you?" you ask, it had to be the team principle right?

"Marcin, he was asking for you and Ghost" he explains.

"Well, its just going to be me, Ghost is preoccupied right now" you say slipping out and shutting the door.

"Hmmmm, its strange you are in his driver's room. Were you in there the whole race?" he asks cocking his head to the side.

"Erm, yes i don't like all the fuss in the garage so i tend to stay in there and watch"

"Ah okay" he's said before walking off ahead of you to show you exactly where you should be going.

That was how you'd become friends, you'd then heard around the Paddock that come 2023 he'd have his rookie season in McLaren while you moved to RedBull, or well Ghost did.

"You nervous about today?" he asks grinning, the question through you off and your head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"What do you mean, nervous? I'm not nervous. Its not like I'm the one driving... because i'm not" you say, with zero coolness and all the panic in your voice.

"You're rambling, of course you are nervous for Ghost. Today could be the day they take their first win. Would be cool!" he grins pulling you into a hug, he flicks your Red Bull cap a little before you fully tuck yourself into his large embrace.

"Oh yeah, i guess i am a little nervous for ghost but they are a good driver. I'm sure they'll get us some points"

"Yeah they're insane in the Red Bull this year. Rival for Max" he admits brushing a hand through his hair.

Taglist:

@tallbrownhairsarcastic @littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri f1

578 notes · View notes

witchywcmans · 12 days

Text

NEEDY. | AKI HAYAKAWA

synopsis ━━ you were in need of a roommate, and aki hayakawa needed a place that wouldn't ask any questions. you went to work during the day, while aki worked late nights. you basically had the apartment to yourself. it was honestly a match made in heaven. but then, you just had to come home one day and catch your roommate in a precarious situation. (aki x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ voyeurism (just a wee bit), sex-deprived aki 🫶, but also possessive + jealous aki, masturbation, dirty thoughts + wet dreams, fingering, praise, multiple orgasms, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, kinda au (we're not mentioning the gun devil arc), aki has lived to see 26 + reader being a similar age, some religious imagery. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.1k

song inspiration ━━ dealer, lana del rey / friends, chase atlantic / double fantasy, the weeknd

author's note ━━ hi.....hello.........so this idea has been in my head for a little bit, and I realize roommate aus like this are simply not that original, but god dammit I just needed to get this out of my head. anyway, I lurrrrrv sex deprived aki. shout out to my friend hollis for screaming about this with me hehe 💓

The most words you had ever said to your roommate were on the day you interviewed him before he moved in. You immediately noticed that he was strange, but also shy and seemingly harmless. When you had asked why he needed to move in so quickly, he had said something along the lines of a “toxic environment” with his previous roommates: “Denji and Power are just too noisy and reckless. They’re four years younger than me. I need a place less chaotic.” You had been interested in getting to know more – you were curious, after all, about your potential roomie – but once he mentioned that you’d probably never see him because he worked nights, you were sold.

Aki Hayakawa was your new roommate.

He had never been more excited to finally get away from Denji and Power and the tumultuous mess they had turned his apartment into. He was older now; he needed something for himself, even if it was with a roommate. Being a Public Safety Devil Hunter, he needed a place that didn’t think twice about him, a roommate who didn’t ask questions. That’s what he liked about you: your place was on the right side of the city, and you looked at him like he was normal. The Fox Devil said you weren’t going to be good for him, but Aki tended to ignore them anyway.

You had helped him move into your second bedroom just a week later and he hardly said a word, except to ask you who had formerly occupied this space. You were hesitant to talk about it at first, but you cracked soon enough: “My old best friend lived in here. We had rented this place together, but we … aren’t exactly speaking anymore,” you admitted, setting a box down at his feet. “I came home from work one evening and found my boyfriend cheating on me with her. It had been going on for months, right under my nose.” You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting with tears, sniffling them away. “Friends come and go, I guess. But I’m thankful you, at least, worked out to rent this space.”

“Well,” he sighed, opening up the box as you turned back to him. He smirked. “I promise I won’t sleep with your boyfriend.”

You had laughed, and what a pretty sound it was. After move-in day, Aki was true to his word that you almost never saw him. You worked a normal 9 to 5, while Aki … well, you had no idea what Aki did. You assumed he was a security guard or something with the hours he worked and how he was always wearing a suit and tie. He was working all the time, even weekends. Sometimes, you would catch him coming home as you were leaving for work, or on Sunday morning as you ate breakfast in the kitchen. He would be too tired to talk, simply waving at you before retiring to his room.

It was almost like living alone … except for notes he’d sometimes leave you on the stove or the bathroom. Or the weekend mornings, when he’d get you a coffee and leave it out for you before going to his room. Or the once-in-a-blue-moon nights when you’d stumble in the early hours of the morning after drinking in the city with some friends, standing out on the deck with Aki as he smoked a cigarette. Nights like those, you could’ve sworn Fate was trying to get you two to see each other, because you would be arriving home at just the right hour and Aki would be getting off work early. And you would find him on the deck in his suit and tie, cigarette hanging from his lips, hair pulled up in his classic topknot. He would find you leaning against the railing in nothing but a short dress, the glitter on your lids making your eyes sparkle even more, and – god, you were just so pretty.

After that night, he started dreaming about you. He dreamed about how your lips would feel against his, what it would be like to have you sleep next to him and rest your head on his chest. He was consumed by thoughts of you under him, how you tasted, the way you’d tremble if he kissed that sensitive part of your neck you told him about one late night on the deck. His need for you was insatiable. In his line of work, there wasn’t much time for dating, let alone sex. He hadn’t been thinking about it that much, especially when he’d been housing Denji and Power, but now … he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Naked. Underneath him. On top. God dammit, he’d have you any way you wanted.

It made him wish he had acted on his instincts that night on the deck: pushing you against the sliding door, his lips crashing onto yours, hiking your skirt up that just barely covered your thighs and using his non-dominant hand (the one that didn’t shake) to feel how wet you were. But alas, Aki Hayakawa was a gentleman.

You two had been living together for a year. He hardly knew you, but also knew you like nobody else did. He knew how you took your coffee – black with two sugars. He knew the brand of toilet paper you liked. He knew that you liked to hang your coats in the closet on the right side. He knew you drooled in your sleep, and what TV shows made you laugh, and how much your water bill was each month.

He was acting out in ways that were unlike him. If he came home from work and saw you had a guy over, he made his presence known. When you were at the office, sometimes he would go to your room just to smell your perfume, and other times he would steal your panties. (He always gave them back, feeling too shameful. But he did keep one underneath his pillow.) Some nights, he would pretend to leave for work early and you would retire to your room for the night, and then he would hear the familiar sound of your vibrator and – fuck, he had to go to work hard. Again.

You were taking up too much space in his head. He was becoming distracted at work, thinking about what you were doing during these late hours. Maybe the Fox Devil was right: you weren’t good for him.

But he wasn’t moving out any time soon.

It was a Thursday after work and you were completely exhausted. After attending endless meetings and having to argue with coworkers all day, you left work early and were grateful to have a night alone with some leftovers from the night before. You had completely forgotten Aki telling you earlier in the week that he had this Thursday and Friday off, your mind preoccupied with work responsibilities. Sighing as soon as you walked through the door, you set your bag down and shuffled out of your shoes. You shut the door softly, at peace with the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of your work clothes; you simply padded your feet to the fridge, plucking your leftovers out. It was only when you reached up to the microwave that you noticed the apartment wasn’t as silent as you assumed.

Sounds emanated from another room.

You got on your tip-toes, not wanting to make much noise if there was an intruder, and felt for the pocket knife you always kept on your person. Passing by your bedroom first, you popped your head inside. Empty. Hadn’t been touched since you left this morning. The bathroom was next, and you held your breath as the sounds got even more noticeable. You peeked into the bathroom and … clear. Linen closet: clear. Coat closet: clear. But the sounds only became more clear as you got closer to the end of the hall, Aki’s room, and –

You stopped in front of Aki’s bedroom, the door cracked just enough that you didn’t need to pop your head in to see what was happening. Aki was home, for once, and you … you were watching him through the crack in the door. But how could you not? You knew where the sounds were coming from now, because Aki was the one making them.

His dark hair swept in front of his eyes as he sat back against his pillows. He wore a white t-shirt, while his boxers bagged around his ankles. Grunts slipped from his mouth – that pretty, pretty mouth you'd seen wrapped around a cigarette. And his hand … his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously – desperately – with a pair of your panties enveloping the head. The same red lace panties you thought you’d lost months ago.

You almost considered walking away, making noise in the kitchen so he would know you were home, but then –

Then, your name left his mouth in a whimper.

He was stroking himself even faster, muttering your name into the silent room with your panties wrapped so nicely around his cock. He was thinking about you, wanting so desperately cum in your panties, wondering if you thought about him when you used your vibrator. You were frozen in place, completely fixated on him as he leaned back against his headboard, his face finally exposed so you could see the way his jaw went slack, the way he moaned out your name. And – oh my god, you should leave –

But you couldn’t. And deep down, you knew there was a dirty part of you that always wanted to see this. Ever since that night on the deck, when you were wearing your favorite dress and all that glitter, and you noticed that he was looking at you in a way a platonic roommate definitely shouldn’t. You had started to think about him late nights when you were alone with your toy. You brought home dates, wanting him to see, giggling when you recognized his jealous expression. You tried to wake up earlier, just to see him when he stumbled through the door. Once, you even did his laundry to smell the nicotine on his jacket.

The two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves.

And when you watched him finally reach his peak, spilling into your forgotten red lace panties, you realized just how wet the ones you were wearing had become. You watched him grunt as he came, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. And when he muttered under his breath a soft, “Fuck,” you couldn’t help the short gasp that left your lips.

Aki stalled. Oh, shit. You hadn’t been quiet enough. He sat up more in his bed, pulling his boxers up, and you whipped your back against the wall. You cupped your hand over your mouth, praying he wouldn’t come out and see. But he was whispering, “Who’s there?” And you only had enough time to move ten feet down the hall before you heard the creak of his soles on the old floorboards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder this time.

Your back went straight, and after what felt like an eternity, you slowly turned to face him. “Aki,” you put your hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see anything –”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he shook his head at himself, quickly walking back into his bedroom. You were stunned, not knowing what to do, as he continued talking to himself in the room: “Stupid fucking idiot not closing the fucking door. What the fuck? What the fuck? My worst fucking nightmare. Fuck, why do these pants always get caught around my ankles? I need to get out of here. Stay at Denji’s for the night. Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

He emerged from his bedroom, now wearing jeans, his favorite Converse, and a leather jacket. He tried to pass you without looking, whispering obscenities under his breath, but then you were tugging on his jacket, lips pressed together.

Aki paused, cheeks red with both embarrassment and anger at himself, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve. He noticed the redness of your face as well, the black of your pupils almost covering your entire eye, and were you … were you aroused?

Swallowing hard, your voice was but a mere whisper when you asked, “How long have you had those?”

He knew what you were referring to. It didn’t take an idiot. Your stares were locked, and despite his shame, he wouldn’t turn away. “A while,” he mumbled.

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Months, okay?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a new tone. “Now, can you let go of my jacket so I can leave and save us both the embarrassment –”

“Months,” you repeated, licking the corners of your lips. His eyes were made of blue fire as he stared down at you, and even with your office attire on, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. “I’ve … I’ve been thinking about you for months too.”

Aki took a moment to process your words, and your grip hesitantly released on his sleeve. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t – let you get away so easily. His breath was shaky as he placed both of his hands on the wall behind you, pinning you to it. So many times had you two passed each other in this hallway, so many words left unsaid. And now, he was pressing you against it.

“You’ve been thinking about me … for months,” he thought out loud, leaning in a little and nosing your hair. Your scent was intoxicating. That perfume … he could cum in his pants just from smelling it. “For months, you’ve been bringing guys to the apartment to … to what? Make me jealous?” He chuckled under his breath. It took him so long to put it together. “For months, you’ve been touching yourself right before I leave so I go to work fucking hard.” His nose traveled down to your neck, grazing that spot you told him about, and you shuddered. “You’ve been putting me through the wringer and I didn’t even have a clue.”

“You’re … you’re not so innocent.” You tried to keep yourself together, but it was difficult with him pinning you to the wall and – oh, he was already hard in his pants, pressing into you. “You’ve been stealing my panties so you can masturbate with them.”

Aki hummed quietly, pressing his lips so delicately to your neck, as if his cock wasn’t completely strained in his jeans. “I supposed I have,” he whispered against your skin, “for months.”

“Since that night on the deck,” you croaked out, hands balling into fists as he licked a stripe up your neck. If he didn’t stop, you’d surely moan. “But I didn’t say anything – didn’t think about saying anything – because … because we’re roommates.”

“We are roommates,” he said, lifting his head from your neck, his lips hovering so close to yours. “And if we’re just stating facts here, I’ve needed to kiss you since that night.”

You didn’t wait for him. Immediately leaning in, your lips pressed onto his in a hungry kiss. His mouth molded to yours, and he tasted exactly like you thought: like black coffee, cigarettes, those raspberry pastries he always kept in the kitchen. His tongue, slipping into your mouth, tangled with yours in a way that you had only dreamed about. Your hands released from their fists, instead reaching up to twist in his t-shirt, bringing him even closer to you. He’d hardly touched you and you were completely, utterly soaked.

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips broke from yours for just a moment to beg, “I need to touch you.”

“Please,” you whispered back, and his mouth was back on yours.

He dragged one hand down from the wall (his shaky hand, believe it or not), still pressing you against it, and worked on unzipping your trousers. You nuzzled your nose against his as he kissed you deeply, slipping his hand in your pants, past the waistband of your panties and – you were exactly as he dreamed you’d be. Absolutely wet. Just as needy for him as he was for you. “Fuck,” he muttered into the kiss, spreading your soaked folds with two long fingers.

Your lips tore away from his, a trail of spit following, because you simply had to release the moan you’d been holding in for so long. Despite loving the way your mouth fitted against his, he was glad for it, wanting to see your face when he started rubbing your sensitive clit. And fuck, was it the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your fists on his t-shirt went loose as your body felt like it was made of liquid, angling into his. Your lips pursed, soft whimpers filtering out as he rubbed you in those tight circles.

“So fucking wet f’me,” he mumbled, grazing his lips over yours. “Dreamed about this for months. Fuck, I’ve gotten hard just thinking about this pussy.”

He finally dipped a single finger inside you, and your hips immediately jerked against his hand. Aki let out a shuddering breath when he felt how much you were squeezing just one finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly. “Please,” you whispered, despite his thoughts, “I can take more. I promise.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He shoved two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that had your hips instantly bucking. “Fuck, Aki,” you whined as he plunged those fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to rub your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed.

“Kiss me.”

Aki moaned from your words alone, kissing you hard while fucking you with his long fingers. He was practically drunk on you: your scent wrapped around him, you tasted like citrus, and the way bucked into his hand … god, he needed to fuck you. So bad. And if you didn’t want that, then he needed to jerk himself off immediately or else he was going to explode in his pants. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment tonight.

It only took seconds to have you sighing into the kiss, squeezing his fingers like a vice as you came. His thumb on your clit was relentless, taking you over that lovely peak, as you mewled and cried into his mouth. It was almost religious, the way you moaned, and Aki had never felt closer to God than in this moment.

When the adrenaline subsided, he slowly removed his fingers from you and broke the kiss. You watched him intensely as he brought the fingers covered in your slick to his mouth, tasting you. Your lips fell open slightly, eyes going wide while his own closed, savoring the taste. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself. How the fuck have we been living under the same roof and it took this long for me to see that?

Without missing a beat, you pushed yourself off the wall, winding your arms around his neck and latching your legs to his waist. He lifted you as if you were made of air, kissing you so that you could taste yourself. Before you could even perceive how much time had passed, you were on his bed, blouse disheveled and trousers undone. Even your hair hadn’t left the updo you put it in every weekday. Your eyes flickered to the right and you giggled to yourself. He had finally shut the door.

His eyes remained on you as he shrugged off his jacket, and then his pants. He was back in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, when your panties had been wrapped around his cock like a birthday present. He hesitated before finally pulling off his shirt, and you saw the scars lining parts of his chest. Definitely not a security guard, you thought to yourself but decided not to ask about it now. You reached up as he stood between your legs, brushing your fingers over the scars, and then dragged them down his abdomen. His frame was thin, but he was more built than you believed, always hiding himself under those oversized button-ups.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist as you touched him so gracefully. “Do you want to …?” His voice was so soft, the question hanging off the edge of his tongue.

And then, you smiled up at him, looking like an angel. “Yes, Aki,” you whispered.

He felt like a kid in a candy store. The only thing – the one person – he’d been dreaming about and looked at him as if he weren’t a machine, or a gun with the trigger pulled, was lying before him and liked him. For months, they’d both said. His dominant hand was shaking as he started unbuttoning your blouse, and when you noticed (though you had observed this the day he moved in), you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek. With his left hand and your right, you worked together to undo the buttons until your chest was exposed for him.

Moonlight streamed through his bedroom, the only light source in a seemingly dark area. City lights reflected on you as you pulled your hair free from the updo, those pretty strands fanning on his sheets. His sheets. Because you were in his bed. The blinking lights from corporate buildings outside your little apartment created a halo around your head and – fuck, you really were something religious. For so long, Aki thought only hell existed. I mean, all the Devils were here, contracted to them. But seeing you splayed out so heavenly for him on his bed, he knew then that Angels had to exist too.

He took his time taking your pants off, watching the way you bit your lip when the cold air of his room hit your soaked panties. Your eyes glanced up to his boxers, seeing the indent of his long, thick cock, and your mouth went dry. His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging down and throwing them off to the side, hoping you’d forget about them so he could pocket another pair. With you exposed and bare on his bed, he really took a moment to admire you: the way your cheeks flushed, how the halo around your head flickered, the way your arousal seeped out of your pretty pussy and your nipples peaked. He just had to touch you; it would kill him if he didn’t. Leaning down, he began peppering kisses on your neck, your collarbone, before finally latching his lips around one of those sensitive nipples. Your breath stuttered at the sensation, and he used his left hand to palm your other breast, twisting the nipple between two fingers. You writhed under him, and he couldn’t help but grind his clothed cock against you, groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipple in tandem. Locking your legs around his waist, you held him to you so he was forced to keep grinding against you. It felt too good, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He tugged on your nipple and released it, breathing heavily as his eyes met yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’m definitely going to cum before I’m even inside you.”

“Poor Aki,” you giggled, letting your legs fall back on the bed. “Would that really be so bad?”

His eyes were burning into yours, serious as a heart attack. “I’ve been fucking my hand to the thought of you for what feels like forever,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

Aki moved up so that his lips were hovering over yours again, and he could really see the sparkle of your irises in the moonlight. You reached in between your bodies and gingerly massaged his bulge, feeling how much he’d already soaked his boxers with precum. “You couldn’t ruin anything even if you tried,” you replied, your voice light and airy. “I’m on the pill. I’m ready when you are.”

“Shit,” he groaned at your mention of being on the pill, trembling as you massaged him. This had to be another one of his dreams. Just the thought of being inside you without the barrier of a condom … he was so close to completely exploding. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you, after all the hell he’d witnessed and brought forth into this world. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to have you, roommates be damned.

He stood up, needing to get away from your gentle hand. You sat up a little to help him tug down his boxers, careful of that shaky hand of his, and his cock sprang free, dripping precum on the floor. Aki, ever the gentleman, laid you back down on his bed with ease, holding your stare as he spread your legs wide for him. He breathed, praying to whatever god placed you in front of him that he wouldn’t cum prematurely. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, but he was so desperate for you that all he cared about was not tainting this moment, this dream.

Aki grasped his cock, giving it a few hard pumps and grunting, before positioning himself at your entrance. You both seemed to hold your breath as he finally slid in, just an inch at first, and the two of you seemed to release that shaky, nervous breath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, burying himself further in your tight warmth, bracing his elbows beside your head.

“Keep going,” you begged. “It’ll fit, Aki. Promise.”

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. Aki had felt the way you squeezed his fingers, but it was nothing compared to pleasure of being inside you, feeling how tight you really were. So much better than his hand. Once he was fully seated inside you, he opened his eyes just to look into yours. Your lips pursed, legs wrapping around his waist once again, and you slowly nodded for him to continue. His cock twitched.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, sliding out of you before slamming back in. You cried out, carding your fingers in his hair, and he molded his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own whimpers. You just felt so, so good – so good that he could cry. To think that his bed had once been so cold, so lonely, but now you were occupying the space, trembling underneath him as his cock slipped in and out of you.

Your moans were like gospel. For so long, Aki had been used to loud noise: to Denji’s complaints, to Power’s shouting, to the Devils’ in his ear. But now, it was just you two on the altar of your apartment, silent except for your heavy breaths mingling and the sound of car horns outside. You were wet and slick like holy water, taking him so nicely despite his size, and god – it was like you were made for him and he was made for you.

You tugged on his hair, needing him so badly even though he was already yours to begin with. He really would have you any way you wanted. All you had to do was ask.

Aki was already so close to release, but he needed you to cum with him. As he fucked into you harder, deeper, his cock curving against that spot that made your eyes roll back, he reached in between you two and found that swollen bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs. “Aki,” you whined, tears pricking at your eyes as he rubbed your clit. He could die happily now that he heard your voice like that in his ear, knowing it was him that made it happen.

“Yes?” He said, breathless, placing sloppy kisses on your jaw. You clung to him, melting into him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “I’m so close. Are you close, angel?”

You whimpered at the nickname. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He fingers went a little faster. “Let’s get you there.”

As his two fingers rubbed tight, small circles on your clit, he angled his cock inside of you so that he could brush your G-spot with every thrust. You were now clutching onto him with all the strength you had left, entwining your body with his and feeling his muscles flex against your stomach. He was so deep now and you were so close and oh my god, Aki Hayakawa had you like putty in his hands.

And it was like he knew it without you even saying it. Because as your walls started to clench around him, he whispered into your ear. “Cum for me, angel. Please, please, need to cum with you.”

Your body convulsed, going tight around his cock as you came. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you called out his name, spurring him to fuck into you faster, reaching his own peak in the middle of yours. He groaned deep into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. You kept your legs around his waist, not wanting to miss a drop, and arched yourself against him, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. Aki was still rubbing your clit slowly, whispering praises into your skin like, “Did so good me … So pretty … Could listen to you cum for hours.”

You two laid like that for a while, feeling his cock soften inside you, panting heavily against each other. Once he finally pulled out of you, your combined releases dripping down your thighs, you laid beside each other on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, until he whispered, “Please, tell me that wasn’t all a dream.”

Turning your head, you smiled at him. “Do you feel this?” You pinched his arm.

Aki flinched. “Ow.”

“Definitely not a dream,” you chuckled.

260 notes · View notes

charmercharm3r · 4 months

Text

Masterlist

prev: four, next: six

☆ﾟ

It was a good idea in theory. In reality, it was a shit show. Literally. Trips to Jeju are always fun, even if you’re supposed to be filming. However this time around you were informed that the group would be filming a parody of a popular dating show. Whose genius idea was that?

It would’ve been perfectly fine if your members were normal. To your pleasure or misfortune— it’s still unclear— they’re far from it.

There were no hitches the entire trip, traveling and the initial filming was as planned. You were assigned the role of a host while the boys were to be “dating” amongst one another. They followed direction as best as you could ask for with their limited attention spans, jumping from conversation to conversation and even getting in some teasing as the cameras continued to roll. You could already tell a lot of film was going to get cut seeing as they tended to get sidetracked into talking about incredibly personal details.

The “first dates” were going as you expected, you were instructed to go around and give them interviews to provoke more conversations when they started to fall quiet. Seungmin was indifferent the entire time while Felix tried to keep it as lively as possible, no doubt the former doing it on purpose. Jeongin and Jisung didn’t really even need you there as they practically forgot you even were— in their own little world. You got lost in the orchard when looking for Hyunjin and Minho, breaking the fourth wall a few times to ask the crew member on where to go, eventually giving up and wandering on your own for a little too long. Only to find Chan and Changbin sitting and have what looked like a normal conversation— they didn’t need much help either.

The looks of surprise and betrayal was fun to witness as they regrouped to pick who was riding with who to go to dinner. You got to pick whose car you rode in once they finished, and decided on Minho and Felix’s car.

Minho drives fast, which is even more fun when he takes off the child locks in the backseat and rolls down the window for you. You and Felix stick your heads out the window as he surpasses the other three cars, the both of you hollering at them with joy and barely catching a faint smile on Minho’s lips when you sit back again.

Everyone, including you, forgets that you’re supposed to be filming during dinner and goes silent as you eat. Until Hyunjin speaks from across the table, “Y/N’ie, I thought you were supposed to interview us earlier. Did you think we were so hopeless as a couple that you decided not to?”

His question threw you off, totally unexpected as your mouth was full. Half chewed and half hearted, “I got lost.”

“What did you say?” Jisung called at the other end.

“You got lost?” Chan chuckled at your right, the confession sending him and Hyunjin into a fit of giggles. The information eventually made it to the other side of the table and the rest of them erupted into giggles as well.

“It wasn’t my fault! Why were you two so far away?” You turned the attention onto Minho and Hyunjin, who shared an amused look.

When both of them simply shrugged, Changbin stepped in, “that’s okay. I would’ve stayed up all night looking for you if you got lost.” He beat his palm onto his chest and jutted his chin out with a nodding smirk.

“That’s nice, but you’re supposed to be interested in each other. It wouldn’t be a good look for the show—“ you gestured to the surrounding cameras— “if you showed more interest in the host than in the contestants.”

“But the host is always the most attractive one!” He exclaimed, throwing his spoon down. Your eyes widened in confusion of where this sudden infatuation came from.

You looked at your manager standing by one of the center cameras, he was laughing just as hard as the members, “I don’t remember this being part of the script.”

“It’s not a script!” Changbin’s chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood. “These are my true feelings! Do my feelings look like a joke to you?!”

None of the others were going to help you now, they all avoided eye contact and kept their mouths shut as you sought out a scapegoat for Changbin’s bombardment of affection. “If I say no, will you sit down?”

“No!”

Then it hit you, play along.

Your chair almost toppled back when you took to your feet, Chan stuck his hands out to catch you just in case. “Then yes!”

Jeongin let out a small, “what is happening?”

“You’re a joke!” You replied back to Changbin with feigned anger. “You broke my heart! Then you come on my show to rub it in my face!”

Everyone at the table was suddenly invested in where this was going. You glanced over at your manager and he waved his hands as though throwing up a white flag. Green light.

“Do you want to humiliate me? Is my pain funny to you, Seo Changbin?”

“I didn’t want our relationship to end but you pushed me to it! You forced my hand!” He shouted at you for two seats down.

“Everyone,” you dramatically looked the other members directly in the eye, “he cheated on me.”

Gasps erupted throughout the restaurant, including the staff playing into the story. They spoke over each other, everyone trying to get their words in as Changbin’s mouth dropped to the floor in shock. You forced yourself to repress a smile seeing the disbelief on his face, his reaction much funnier when he broke the fourth wall to look at your manager as well.

How could you’s and shame on you’s echoed throughout the restaurant, Hyunjin’s words particularly catching your ear.

“Cheating is unforgivable, how disrespectful. I could never be friends with anyone who cheats on their significant other,” his serious tone drawing in the rest of the table above all the jokes spewing about, all eyes on him now.

“Care to explain more, Hyunjinnie?” You and Changbin sat back down and gave him the floor to speak.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “I can’t stand it. Just break up with them. If you truly cared about someone, you’d never, never treat them with that level of disrespect, even if you’re on bad terms.”

He was clearly upset now, arms crossed across his chest and looking down at his bowl. No one really knew what to say as his emotions were much more intense than the previous vibes of the dinner. As the host and since it was your fault the topic was brought up, you comforted him, “I agree with you—“

But Jisung adds fuel to the fire before you could continue, “I have something to confess.” Everyone turns to him. “I saw who Changbin cheated with. I caught them together.”

More gasps, fists slamming on the table, angry exclamations demanding to know more. “It was…” he paused and looked around the table, then stuck his finger in the direction across from you, “Hyunjinnie!”

Faking a faint, you fell back into Chan with a hand over your forehead. The oldest wrapped his arms around your neck and shielded you from the subject of the incoming yelling match. There wasn’t much you could really understand as everyone spoke over one another for the billionth time that night. When he released you, you faked wiping tears as Hyunjin went mute with his mouth agape.

“Any last words before we,” a fake sniffle, “move on?”

“I DIDN’T KNOW! I PROMISE!” He came over to your side of the table and fell dramatically to his knees, taking your hand and placing your palm onto his cheek.

“What are you doing, get up.” You tried to take your hand back but he only held on tighter.

“Say you forgive me.”

“You need to be on a drama with how dramatic you are,” you joke, trying to divert your attention from how tightly he held your hand made your tummy warm.

“I won’t let you go until you say it!” His eyes were beaming up at you with sparkles so bright, even the stage lighting wasn’t nearly as blinding. Part of you felt like he was apologizing for something he truly did to wrong you, you almost fell for it.

“Fine, fine! Forgiven. Get up and finish your food.” Hyunjin quickly kissed the inside of your palm, unsure if the cameras actually caught it, and went back to his seat.

Conversation shifting to something you weren’t paying attention to, lo and behold, your mind wasn’t nearly as focused as it should be. There was more screaming and yelling, mostly Changbin and Jisung, and you couldn’t even laugh with them because you were internally battling with yourself about his fucking eyes. Hyunjin’s eyes and how sincere they were, how soft and patient and agonized they seemed to be about a situation that was purely for show. It caught you so far off guard that when the members continued with the skit, you let them take the reins to do whatever they wanted.

By the time it was time to choose cars to head home, you were just going with the flow, not caring about the show anymore. What you needed was an ice cold bath. A freezing shower to get rid of the heat in your cheeks whenever Hyunjin’s gaze would linger on you for half a second longer.

That was exactly what you did as soon as the cameras were off and you were back at your hotel room. You rushed off to be alone and get rid of all the stupid thoughts that made your head dizzy because what the fuck?

It wasn’t like you were touch deprived, your members were practically an extension of your physical self. It was just the way he looked at you. Why were you so upset over a look? He looks at you every day, nothing new. You were looking back at him. Straight into his eyes. He was on his knees. Your hand was on his cheek. He was nuzzling his face into your skin. You almost leaned in. His lips looked so kissable. He did kiss you— your hand, at least.

Oh, it’s fucking over for you.

Knock, knock, knock.

The consistent rapping on your hotel door shocked you enough to pull you from the butterfly inducing realization. Just a robe on and hair still dripping, you rushed to check the peep hole to find the one person you didn’t want to see standing outside.

“Why’re you here?” You said a little colder than intended.

Hyunjin scoffed and held up the bag of chips and soda, “what a rude way to greet someone bearing gifts.” He pushed past you and threw the snacks on the bed along with himself. “Go get dressed, they have Netflix on the TV.”

You didn’t even have the will to say no, doing what he asked and changing into comfy clothes. Big sweats and a baggy hoodie seemed decent enough, and so did standing at the foot of the bed while he was sprawled out, clicking through the different movies. “What are you doing here?” You finally asked.

“Hanging out?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” He had a point. “You were also really quiet at dinner.” Frowning a little, you sat at the foot of the bed and took the bag of chips. Admittedly, they hit the spot, he knew they would and smiled to himself when you visibly relaxed.

“That one,” you spoke again as he hovered over the movie you’d been telling yourself you’d watch when you had the time. Well, now you had nothing but time.

Cross legged and still on the edge of the bed, munching away while fully invested in this terrible movie, Hyunjin admired the way you’d copy the actress’s slight body movements when she was around the love interest, as if you were taking notes. Tilting your head, sitting up a little straighter, leaning your head on your palm, or tucking your hair behind your ear. It was utterly adorable and he loved being able to see you like this. Somehow, you forgot he was even there until the bed shifted behind you.

Suddenly there was heat, too much of it. You were suffocating with the obvious fact that you were not alone and haven’t been for the past hour. Hyunjin’s arm was bumping against the back of yours, seemingly innocent.

“Are you gonna share?” He said, chin brushing your shoulder as he gestured at the mostly empty bag of chips. You didn’t say anything, only holding it in his direction. His hand encased yours to bring it even closer to him, making your fingers almost shake with anxiety. It was nothing. Literally nothing. But it felt like everything.

“Open,” he commanded for the second time tonight. When did he get so close to you? You could practically smell his shampoo and body lotion. Dumbly, you faced him slightly and opened your mouth enough for him to slip a chip into it. Then unexpectedly, his fingers tipped the bottom of your chin up to close. “Chew before you swallow.” Your eyes followed his hand as it retreated, leading up to his own gaze that was already staring back.

The sound of your swallowing was comically loud, you wished the ground would open up and eat you whole. “I don’t want to kiss you,” you rushed to say.

Hyunjin smirked, amused. “I don’t want to kiss you, either.” His actions contradicted his words as his face unnoticeably inched forward. Warmth was swirling around you now, his shampoo, his lotion, his skin, his clean clothes, his left over toothpaste— “your breath smells like chips.”

There it was. Butterflies gone. You shoved him and his stupidly smug smirk harshly back by his chest and he thumped back into the bed. Immediately, you ran into the bathroom to rinse your mouth with mouthwash before coming back and attacking him. You were slamming the soft pillow into his body without so much as a complaint. More so, he was laughing, not even a wince because it didn’t phase him at all. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t get it.

Moving into a stronger position, you went from standing at his side to trying to hop over him onto the available bed space, failing miserably and flopping onto him instead. Chest to chest, practically straddling him, Hyunjin gripped your waist to keep you from falling off the edge. That also meant there was no where to run. “Now I really don’t want to kiss you.”

“But I really want you to.” His hands keeping you in place, the proximity, minty fresh breath— from you, at least. Your hand drifted to his face, ghosting fingertips up along his cheek to push his hair from his face. Another thing for the second time that night, he leaned into the touch, enjoying it much more than he should.

This felt like the right moment, right? This was how that girl did it in the movie. She did all those steps, the lean in, touch the cheek, brush the hair, what came next?

It was the actual kiss, the one part you couldn’t get yourself to initiate. It’s been too much teasing him, perhaps if you only just gave in a little— a slight graze of your lips against his, that’d be the ultimate power move. Payback for the emotions he made you feel earlier this evening. Just close enough to make his eyes flutter closed, make his breath hitch, make him pucker and wait for you to close the distance and feel one another for the first time.

That’s exactly what you did, and fuck, was it hard not to cave. His soft breath and pillowy lips, you almost did.

Knock, knock, knock. “Y/N’ie, can I use your hair drier? The outlet in my bathroom doesn’t work.”

Saved by the fucking bell. Hyunjin audibly groaned, annoyed that his perfect moment was once again stolen from him.

You quickly pushed off of his body by his chest and rushed to open the door, stroking your hair flat and revealing Jisung on the other side. He immediately went into your bathroom, not noticing Hyunjin on the bed lobbing his head back with frustration.

“Han Jisung, you’re the worst. I was so close! Couldn’t you have waited two more minutes?!”

Jisung, frightened by the unknown voice, peaked around the doorframe and saw the other boy. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“No—“

“Yes!” You shook your head with emphasis, holding up your hands like waving a white flag.

Everything else happened so fast. One second you were standing next to Jisung and the next, Hyunjin was rushing over to the both of you saying something along the lines of, “give me my kiss!” You had pulled Jisung in front of you without really thinking about it and put him into Hyunjin’s line of fire. The two smashes foreheads at the fast pace the older moved, both crumbling to the floor in pain.

With the way the night started, this was a solid way to end it— watching your two friends rolling around the floor in pain as you laughed your ass off at their idiotic tendencies. Then them proving said idiotic tendencies as one tried to— hopefully playfully— strangle the other, in which you don’t know who started all the rough housing, you’re just there to patch them up when they’re done.

☆ﾟ

A/N: don’t ask me where i’ve been idek LMAO. this is so bad im really trying to start writing again pls bear with me

269 notes · View notes

ohbabydollie · 3 months

Note

MUTUAL BREAKUP HCS

i love writing them sm, u don’t understand

everyone assumed the break up was gonna be nasty and awful

everyone assumed it was going to start drama, end friendships, etc.

so imagine their surprise where up to three months after the break up you're still living with schlatt

you're still sleeping in the same bed as him

he was the one who helped you move into your new apartment that was only a three minute walk from his house

anytime both of you are in a video together you both sit side by side, his arm thrown over your shoulder and you leaning into him

you guys still kiss like it’s nothing

sharing kisses while doing anything

schlatt is almost always holding your hand

even if you’re sitting across from each other at a table he’ll reach over and hold your hand, occasionally planting kisses on your knuckles

you two tend to do stupid shit together especially if it’s for “the bit” (it never is just a bit)

imagine being in the otk iq test, you’re playing a little nerd and schlatt the asshole jock

schlatt is throwing bits of paper and eraser at you the entire time, teasing you by grabbing your test and holding it above your head, says he’ll give it back if you agree to give him a bj and you agree

uses the excuse of “dorks give the best head and have the best holes” on camera

sleepovers where you both drink and do karaoke

“OH DEAR YOU KNOW IM SUCH A FOOL FOR YOUUUUUU” you scream as schlatt laughs

“christ you can’t sing at all” he says grinning

is the ex everyone who crushes on you is insecure about

they can tell he still has love left for you and you still have love left for him

you don’t go on many dates unless you’re asked out, even then you apologize when you leave half way through the date

“i’m sorry, an emergency came up, i have to go” you say handing them enough money to cover your half of the bill and a little more

it ends the same way, you’re at schlatt’s apartment making out with him

he loves picking up your favorite drink when you need to get up early and ready for a interview

he remembers to get extra of your favorite sauce when they get you nuggets

he remembers what skin care you use and in what order, it’s perfect especially when he wants to get you gifts

he knows what metal you wear without having to look at your instagram because he remembers from looking at your bracelet while holding your hand

he knows which snacks you like so he keeps them stocked at his house for a movie night

he pretends not to notice little details about you, but it’s so obvious he does

like if you like coke or pepsi more

he remembers your orders for restaurant and could recite them in his sleep

i mean you would be over your ex if you could find someone better

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt headcanons #mbu!jschlatt

155 notes · View notes

mochalate · 5 months

Text

"one and a half at onigiri miya" ; f!reader/atsumu miya w/c: 2.2k ; fluff c/w: implied drug use atsumu salvages what was shaping up to be a disastrous first date with you, a former child and teen actress; and currently one of the biggest stars on the pop music charts.

Atsumu’s no stranger to first dates.

(Never mind that he rarely gets to the second one.)

That’s why, when his phone pings again— this time with a text stating your usual, from an unknown number, and signed with a name Atsumu doesn’t recognize— he’s confident enough to say this does not feel like a good first date.

Asking him to order in advance, and getting your assistant to send it to him— you may as well have said, “Hi, Atsumu. I’m having second thoughts and want to get this done as quickly as possible. Delete my number immediately.”

Atsumu wonders if he somehow managed to do something wrong, in the forty eight odd hours between meeting you, and right now. He rests his chin on interlaced fingers, and closes his eyes, drowning out the hum of conversation in the restaurant; just like he does on the court.

It’s easy enough to picture where he met you first.

It’s where he spends most of his time, after all— the Jackals’ home court. It’s been set-dressed to hell with all the props for a music video, and there are more lights and cameras than he’s ever seen in his life for one person; but it’s still familiar.

Strangely, you’re familiar too.

He’s been watching your face his whole life— first in those corny childrens’ movies that he remembers loving (but are probably better left being enjoyed as memories), and then later, in those tear-jerker dramas his mother is so fond of. You’re on the billboard right outside the building, for crying out loud.

Atsumu has heard that the camera lies; but he doesn’t think that’s true. You look just as beautiful sitting on the bleachers in sweats with no makeup (resting after dancing for the better part of the evening— Atsumu is impressed with your stamina), as you do playing any heroine.

(When he tells Kiyoomi he’s going to ask you out, Kiyoomi tells him that being murdered by a crazy stalker that’s not even there for him is just about the lamest thing to have on an obituary. Atsumu tells him to fuck off.)

He doesn’t have his phone— no recordings, that was the condition your manager laid down when people asked to watch— so he scribbles his number down on the back of a convenience store receipt he finds in his pocket for box dye, and gives it to you.

“Miya, right?” you ask him, smiling softly at the ballpoint print.

Atsumu’s heart skips a beat, and he immediately forgets everything he’s rehearsed. “You know me? Are you a Jackals fan?” The words tumble out of his mouth, and he cringes at how breathless he sounds.

“I read your website on the way here.”

There’s an awkward silence— awkward for him, because you’re smiling pleasantly at him, waiting for him to continue; and it’s making it really hard to remember what he’d planned to say. He’s sure Kiyoomi is watching him fumble this from the other side of the gym.

You seem to take pity on him. “This is your personal number, right? I’ll check my schedule with my manager and text you a time when I’m free.”

Atsumu is sure he’s blown it, as he watches you get up and dust yourself off. Who ever followed up on a promise of texting later? But then you pause on your way to your team, and turn back to him.

“I remembered you, because I liked your interview. There are no expectations or memories on the court, was it? I liked that. I'll see you soon.”

When the car pulls up to the restaurant, you wonder if you should just call the whole thing off. It had been disappointing, having Atsumu Miya ask you to come here. Sure, you haven’t been to this particular establishment in a while, but these places tended to meld together after the first hundred times.

Athletes, apparently, are not much more imaginative than actors. It seems obvious in hindsight.

So much for trying something new, you think miserably.

“I’ll bring the car up front when you’re ready to leave, ma’am,” your driver tells you. You don’t remember his name. Your agency always gives you a different one each time.

You nod politely at the middle-aged man, and take a moment with your compact to make sure your face is arranged in a neutral position. Anyone walking past would probably think you were just obsessed with yourself.

People walking past always had a lot of opinions.

“Which role was the most challenging for you, as an actor?” they would always ask.

“Each role has its own unique challenges!” you would say.

The real answer, though, was probably being convincing in all those dramas meant to assure young girls that no one thinks about you as much as you fear, honest.

Lies.

Good thing you trade in those.

You think you’re telling a good lie tonight, of wanting to enjoy this date— thanking Atsumu for waiting for you (why didn’t you just order?), and saying you love this restaurant (the last time you said that, the owner was sponsoring a project); that you’re so glad to be here again (you barely remember its name).

That’s why you’re surprised when Atsumu sees right through them.

“Look,” he says, setting down his appetiser, “I picked this place because I googled you, and saw you saying you liked it. But I don’t think you do.”

Was he calling you a liar? You are, but you don’t like being called one. “Why’s that?”

“Because your usual isn’t even on the menu.” He runs a hand through what’s obviously the result of the box dye on that receipt you still have in your purse. “And… it feels like you’re treating this like an interview.”

“Excuse me?”

Atsumu frowns. “I didn't mean to offend ya,” he closes his eyes. “Ye’re just not saying anything I don't already know. Safe stuff. PR stuff.”

You don't miss the way his dialect peeks through, and it’s what convinces you he's being sincere. A liar wouldn't allow that. You'd know.

So you keep talking. “Do you know a lot about me?”

This makes him blush. “I'm not a stalker or anythin',” he grumbles, “I liked yer movies growing up. And I watched some interviews last night. Since ya liked mine.”

Something in you wants to take a chance on this tall man, too honest for his own good. Who doesn't seem to know how to lie.

“Okay, Atsumu," you say, setting down your spoon. "Here's something I haven't ever said in an interview: I hate fancy restaurants. Every time I say I like one, it's a sponsorship deal.”

His eyes widen. “Every time?”

“Getting all dressed up just to eat? All these rules about which spoon to use? Why would anyone like that? And they make you pay through the nose for the privilege of letting them wait for you to mess up.”

Atsumu looks distressed. “Ya hate this date.”

It's your turn to be surprised, because you find that you suddenly don't. “This is the most fun conversation I've had in a while, actually.”

You can see him brighten up. “So I still have a chance, is what I'm hearin’. Can ya give me a minute? I need to make a phone call.”

Osamu’s shocked face may just be the best part of Atsumu’s night.

“Jealous, ‘Samu?” he asks, because you excused yourself to the bathroom right after the two of you arrived at Onigiri Miya and won't hear him; and also because he wouldn't have been able to resist anyway.

“Don't get ahead of yerself, Mr. One Date Wonder,” Osamu deadpans without missing a beat.

Atsumu scowls. “Charge me triple if ya want, but don't ya dare call me that in front of her.”

Osamu grins at him, and retreats to the kitchen. Atsumu realises he never offered a menu, but he supposes he trusts him enough to not fuck up food of all things.

The restaurant is empty, as is the street outside. All the tables have their chairs set up on them upside down, save for the one Atsumu is sitting at. The window shades are closed. If he couldn't hear Osamu clinking around in the kitchen, and smell the savoury scent of cooking meat, he would have thought he'd been abandoned.

He'd asked Osamu to make sure the date would be private, but he's half starting to worry you thought you were about to be murdered, and the bathroom was just an excuse to escape; when you return, and join him at the table.

Atsumu’s never seen anyone look this good under the yellow incandescent light of Onigiri Miya. You're looking around, completely fascinated by the surroundings.

“I think you like this better,” he ventures. “So hopefully this isn't the worst first date you've been on anymore.”

You laugh, a genuine laugh that isn't like the ones from earlier at all. Atsumu feels his heart beat a little quicker.

“Maybe it's our second,” you say wryly. “I googled you too. Don't you want to get past the first—”

“Don't say it!” Atsumu groans. “Let's call this… one and a half, alright? I'll take ya somewhere real special for the second one.” He realises what he said, and his ears grow warm. “I didn't mean— I'm not tryna be pushy—”

“I'd love to go out with you again, Atsumu. You're a sweet guy.”

Atsumu is glad Osamu brings the food out at that point, because he's having trouble finding his tongue. You want to go out with him. Again.

“Here you go,” Osamu says, setting down the plates. “Beef Shigureni.” He catches Atsumu’s eye. Atsumu thinks he must be making a very entertaining face right now, because he rolls his eyes, and adds, “On the house.”

Atsumu isn't worried you won't like the food— Osamu's good at what he does— but he still enjoys watching the smile blossom on your face after you take a bite.

“I have something to confess,” you say, looking down at the plate. “My manager told me to accept any numbers from the Jackals. It was going to be a PR thing. Get myself a different audience.”

“Wha—”

“I don't want it to just be a PR thing anymore,” you continue unabated, now looking right into his eyes, brows furrowed. “I just wanted to… be honest with you.”

Atsumu blinks, not quite sure how to respond. “Okay.”

“That's it?” You look shocked. “You're not going to accuse me of using you?”

“I'm pretty sure you're more famous than I am.”

There's a moment of silence, before you burst out laughing. Atsumu's not quite sure why that was funny, but he's glad it was.

“Do you have any questions for me, Atsumu?” you ask, wiping away a tear.

He thinks. “Did ya really have something delaying ya, earlier? Or…” Or did you just want to get rid of me, he thinks, but doesn't dare say out loud.

“There were some very persistent paparazzi I had to shake off. I wouldn't do something cheap like that, I keep all my appointments.”

He's relieved. “Ask me something.”

You take another bite of the onigiri and chew thoughtfully. “Okay,” you say after swallowing, “do you drink?”

“Rarely, it messes with my training. But if you want something, we can ask ‘Samu to—”

You wave him off. “It's sad to drink alone. Don't worry about it. Your turn.”

Atsumu is nervous to ask, but he gives it a shot. “I have a practice match tomorrow. Do you think you could come watch? It's not public, so ya don't have to worry about getting mobbed or anything—”

“You have a game tomorrow and you're out with me?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

He scratches the back of his head, self conscious. “This is the date you said you were free. And I wanted to see you sooner rather than later. I can still get enough sleep.”

Atsumu thinks your smile is radiant enough to light up the room. “I'll be there for sure.”

“Ma’am, don't tell Ms. Akiyama you snuck out of the restaurant on my watch, please,” your driver tells you anxiously as you get into the car. “She'll fire me.”

“She doesn't have to know,” you say, waving at Atsumu through the window as the driver starts up the engine and begins to drive away from Onigiri Miya. “Don't worry.”

“I think I saw a camera flash go off across the street when you came out,” he continues. You can see his eyes nervously flicking left and right in the rear-view mirror. “She'll know.”

You sigh, and assure him he'll be left out of any stories you'll have to tell your manager. As you relax into the seat, a pleasant, warm feeling in your chest; you feel your phone buzz inside your purse. You dig it out.

You bite your lip. There's really no point replying to this now, Haru probably won't be coherent enough to read it until tomorrow morning. But you shoot off a quick ‘Sorry, have to be up early tomorrow’ just in case he is; before putting your phone away.

It's well past midnight, and the wild energy of the city has slowed down into an energetic thrum. You lean back into the seat, and watch the neon signs and lit billboards go by. It's not quite the star-filled sky in the countryside your characters always seem to find themselves under, but tonight, when your heart feels so light, it will do.

“Atsumu Miya,” you mumble under your breath. “What a nice name.”

thank you for reading!! (See I can write fluff!!). Please leave a like/reblog/reply if you enjoyed it I always thought SMAUs were so fun but also I cannot possibly show not tell enough to do that effectively entirely through screenshots 😔 This is a teaser for a concept I have (fluff/angst ft. celebrity drama, drugs, growing up and maturing in a spotlight, etc). Let me know if you'd be interested? ;)

tweet template from @/cafekitsune, the texts are from canva

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya fluff #my fic

198 notes · View notes

explodo-smash · 5 months

Note

Are you one of the people expecting bkdk to be canon? I just learned that there are people that sincerely believe Hori would have Deku and Bkg have an explicit confession of love. That he's going to be the first popular mangaka to have a endgame gay ship. I am in so many mlm ships of shounen but I've never had the delusion that the author would make them canon despite the evidences otherwise. Like I thought it's fine to ship mlm as long as we stayed in our lane and never harassed the author.

After speaking together, we do believe based on the evidence in the series that BakuDeku being canon is not an even vaguely unreasonable conclusion to reach. We think the story is written in a way you can reach that conclusion easily, so much that even casual viewers who aren’t shippers are questioning the nature/potential conclusion of their relationship.

One of the most consistent and convincing lines of evidence for us has been Katsuki taking on roles/positions traditionally reserved for female heroines/love interests (if you’ve seen anyone call him “narratively androgynous,” this is what they’re referring to). In the context of Jump magazine, we have a number of shonen heroines and love interests to compare Katsuki to. The similarities are so striking that many notable people (including the VAs for the anime) have taken to calling him the heroine of the series.

However, we do think things like homophobia (whether it’s the writer or the audience/consumerbase at large– in this case we’re primarily referring to the audience), the safety of everyone involved, and timing are all unpredictable factors people have to take into consideration when writing/reading a story of this magnitude. Needless to say, if Horikoshi is indeed planning an endgame for bakudeku, he’d also have to take these factors into consideration.

Horikoshi has a record of being pretty in-tune with his fanbase. He definitely keeps some eye on bnha’s reception–for example, he mentioned a while back that both the people who love Katsuki and the people who hate him will have something to look forward to in this finale (we can now see what he meant lol). He’s very likely aware of the people who love bakudeku and the people who loathe it.

Taking into account that he tends to be very intentional with his writing choices, he’s written this story in a way that not only centered bakudeku’s relationship over others (notably Izuku + Ochako’s, the character he’d presumably end up with if things were going predictably?), but also went the extra mile to distinguish their relationship as unique, closer than all their other relationships, the “biggest pillar of the story” (x, x). He didn’t have to do all of this. This extra push is what’s giving bakudeku that undeniable chance at an endgame right now, because it’s come to a point where no one can ignore the implications of scenes like this:

On the flip side, we don’t think people’s hesitation is unreasonable. It’s scary! If bakudeku were to fall flat of all this buildup/our expectations, it wouldn’t be the first time the romantic implications between a pair of boys in a story like this was ignored. Hell it wouldn’t be the first time a popular pair in general, (gay or not) got ignored in favor of what the author just felt like doing, regardless of what any previous developments in the story or interviews or official artwork would have us believe. There’s enough written evidence that canon bakudeku wouldn’t be surprising, but there’s also (at the time of writing this response) still room for things to go another direction, for all of this to be recontextualized and passed as something else.

As per social norms/patterns of behavior, this would be disappointing as hell but not surprising. Especially for people who have been let down before, we completely understand the need/impulse to distance oneself from the idea/hope that bakudeku may become canon.

In all honesty, if it turns out bakudeku isn’t canon or left open-ended (say, an ending where they’re partners of some kind/the closest to one another without that explicit romantic confirmation), we would be frustrated/heartbroken. Not because we feel like Horikoshi shouldn’t do what he wants, he should. But because there’s been a clear effort to bring LGBTQ+ readers into the fold, and tell and portray our experiences in MHA. Horikoshi has done a beautiful, incredible job of writing various LGBTQ+ and marginalized experiences as a metaphor in his stories. Toga is a prime example. This is something that readers around the world have noticed, and it’s something MHA is special for (see this data x, and the further context/commentary on it given here x).

We think it’s intentional. This story and the relationships in it have invoked experiences close and personal to many of us. Things are in a state right now where we wouldn’t just feel baited, we feel like readers would have a right to feel unsatisfied.

That being said, feeling unsatisfied doesn’t equate to feeling empowered to harass or bother others. Especially not Horikoshi himself, and also including other readers who had differing expectations. This is really the case across the board. We should all be able to control our anticipation/expectations without becoming assholes.

It’s not just the shippers, by the way. People who work on the series or work closely with Horikoshi have rooted for bakudeku to go beyond. Izuku and Katsuki have already done what a good chunk of the readerbase thought impossible and became friends. People see their writing, their potential, and they want more. The voice actors (x, x sorry for the crunchy pic it's all i've got atm), academics (x), musicians (x, x) , editors (x) and more have all kind of rallied around Bakugou and Deku’s bond, with a particular sensitivity towards the deeply and uniquely intimate nature of it + how it evokes romance.

We’d like to see MHA exist free of the burdens previous popular shounen series have had placed on them. But that’s a conversation for the ending. As far as the fanbase goes, I think it’s super important people practice humility and caution when speaking to others. We have NO way of knowing what will happen. People who have been traumatized by situations like this in the past have a right to be anxious, people in general are allowed to withhold judgment until we have all the information we need. However, we don’t think having hope or confidence that this narrative might lead us to a canon bakudeku is unwarranted or delusional.

At the end of the day one thing is true, and this was something we had to fight to “prove” much longer than we had to prove Bakudeku had romantic potential - it’s that Kacchan and Izuku’s lives are going to be forever intertwined in this new era of their world that births from the finale.

They’re forever intertwined in a way that’s not replicable for any other character in the series, and that’s amazing all on its own. We’ll just have to wait and see how far they take it! Thanks for reading if you got this far, and Happy Holidays!

#Anonymous #ask #bakudeku #dekubaku #katsudeku

243 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 8 months

Text

Male dullahan x gn reader (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

OH boy, this is a personal one for me on a number of levels (which usually means it's gonna tank), but here's the first of my five new commissions - this one is for the incredibly supportive and sweet @doomfisthero.

It features one of the Supernatural Biker Gang I mentioned in this post, which a lot of you seemed to like, so I hope you're keen to meet the cheeky, goofball dullahan with a heart of gold! Not gonna lie, I went way over the agreed wordcount for this one because it's the world I've already started building, and it's got characters I've already been thinking of for a while.

Content: gender neutral reader who experiences severe anxiety around being pranked/practical joked, which occurs at one point in the story. There’s no malicious intent or bullying behind the prank, and it gets discussed afterwards. The reader is a writer, doing research for a story about bikers, and has no idea that there's something a little 'extra' about this gang. Their friend, Adi, is dating one of them already, and I hope to write their story soon too.

Wordcount: 9216

“God, this was such a stupid idea,” you muttered as you approached the only shop on that wide, empty side street. Its metal sign swung gently back and forth in a light, autumn breeze, displaying a full moon on a black background, with a cruiser-style motorbike silhouetted in front of it, and the white, artfully-distressed font underneath it read ‘Full Moon Motorcycles’.

A second later, your friend stepped out onto the pavement and you knew there was no turning back. Adrianne grinned at you, so you kicked your feet back into motion and closed the distance between you, offering her a small hug. Your leather messenger bag bumped against your hip with the movement, and you wondered if perhaps you should have left your notebook and stuff at home for this first time. It felt more like an interview than getting to know them, and you were worried the group of unfamiliar bikers might take offence that you essentially wanted to study them for your novel.

“Ready to meet the gang?” she laughed, sweeping her messy, dark blonde hair back out of her eyes. “God, you look terrified. Come on, they’re nice! Except maybe Pixie. Don’t mess with her, but she’s not here today. Or Demon, but even he’s ok when you get to know him, I swear.”

“Not helping, Adi,” you grumbled.

Ever since she’d started working for Dahlia Ink across town about six months ago, Adrianne had been hanging around with the group of bikers who all got their ink done there it seemed, and it had almost felt like serendipity in action when she’d told you about them over coffee last weekend. You didn’t tend to talk much about your writing, even with your friends, but you trusted Adi, and she’d always been supportive of your career as an author, so you’d shyly opened up to her about your latest idea for a story featuring a group of bikers. You did leave out the part where the bikers in your story were mostly vampires and werewolves, with a few other supernatural species thrown in as well. Fantasy had always been your comfort-genre, but people had snickered in the past and made you feel like it wasn’t a ‘serious’ genre that ‘serious’ writers pursued, so you’d omitted it this time while telling her about it.

“It’s the perfect excuse for you to come and finally meet Țepeș then!” she’d blurted excitedly into the foam of her cappuccino, her green-brown eyes going wide with excitement at the idea of including you in her group of new friends. They all had weird nicknames, and you had no idea if it was a ‘biker’ thing or just a ‘them’ thing, but you’d been burning up with curiosity about them ever since she’d first started dating the one called Țepeș. “I’ve been dying to find an excuse for you to come meet him. Plus you can ask him anything you want to know for your story, and — oh…”

Her face had fallen, and you’d frowned, heart dropping already. “What?”

“Eh, he’s… he’s not completely non-verbal, but Țepeș doesn’t exactly find talking easy. Maybe you could come to the shop and meet the rest of them instead though? I’m sure Pickle or Pumpkin would love to talk your ear off about their bikes…”

“I dunno, I don’t want to get in the way,” you’d said, trying not to let that tiny, kindling ember of hope in your chest wink out completely. “But if you wanted to ask them…?”

She’d run it past her boyfriend, and Țepeș had said he’d ask Hank. Hank, apparently, was the guy who ran the bike shop where they’d all met and first formed their group, and two nights later, you’d got a text in all caps from Adi saying ‘BASIC BIKER 101 FOR WRITERS IS ON!!!! When are you next free?!!!’

A week later, you and your messenger bag with notebook and pens had shown up outside Full Moon Motorcycles, with little clue what to expect, and a heart full of trepidation.

Adrianne giggled as she ushered you inside, and to your relief, you found there were only two other people inside instead of a shop full of strangers. An array of bikes for sale was lined up around the right hand side of the space, and against the back wall there was a wooden counter almost like a bar, where the vintage till and a few key chains were displayed, while the left side of the space appeared to be a more general spot for tinkering and hanging out. Even with the light flooding in through the two huge, picture windows on either side of the door, the lighting was soft, and the polished concrete floor created a mellow atmosphere. The scent of coffee and motor oil hung heavy in the air, and you found it oddly comforting as you soaked it all up.

Behind the counter, a stocky man with greying, wavy hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was too long to look tidy smiled you and raised a meaty hand. His blue tartan shirt stretched precariously over a hearty paunch, and he exuded a jovial kind of warmth as his honey-brown eyes crinkled. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Hank, though most people round here just call me Dad —”

“— he adopts literally everyone who walks through that door, so congrats on joining the family,” Adi laughed.

“Take your pick on names,” Hank chortled. “I understand you’re a writer…” He seemed interested and a little impressed, which was a bit of a confidence boost.

“Yeah,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “Yeah… uh… thank you for letting me hang out here for a bit. I don’t know anything about bikes… I’m just looking to learn a bit so it makes sense for my novel, you know? I’m not going to get in anyone’s way.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he smiled, gesturing dismissively with his massive paw of a hand. “You just ask what you like and we’ll do our best to help you out. You must know Țepeș already if you’re Adi’s friend?”

You shook your head and Hank looked across the room to where the other person was lurking at the back of the space. You hadn’t noticed Adi leaving your side, but when you turned around, you found her standing with both hands pressed fondly against the chest of the tall, imposing biker dressed all in black and wearing his helmet too, which you thought was an odd choice. But what did you know about the habits of bikers? You were there to learn after all; learn and observe.

Adi waved you over, and you swallowed your nerves and cast Hank a farewell glance before approaching. When Adi stepped back, Țepeș pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to you to shake. It, like the rest of him, was covered in leather or padded gear. There wasn’t a scrap of skin showing on him anywhere, and with your own face reflected in his black visor, it was impossible to get a read on him.

As if she’d read your mind, Adi smacked Țepeș in the chest with the back of her hand and said, “At least put your visor up, you big, intimidating doofus.”

He snorted a silent laugh and lifted the catch on his visor to reveal a sliver of pale skin and irises as black as the rest of his leather gear. Like Hank’s though, his eyes were kindly, and he closed them briefly as he inclined his head in a kind of apologetic bow. You shrugged, and he laughed breathily.

Hank chose that moment to come over, and you jumped as he clapped you on the shoulders. How a man built like a grizzly in autumn had moved so quietly was a mystery. “Come on, Țepeș, why don’t we give our new friend a demonstration of how a bike works? Since your Ducati is in, why don’t we use that?”

Țepeș gave a quick nod, and ducked away through the door that stood in the centre of the back wall, and a moment later, he pushed an absolute monster of a bike out into the empty space. He jutted his chin towards the front door, and Adi nipped over to open it for him, and when you frowned, she laughed. “That Streetfighter is so fucking loud,” she snorted. “You do not want him starting it up in here.”

“And nor do I!” Hank called, now mysteriously back behind the till though you hadn’t heard him leave. You made a mental note to weave something like that into your story for the supernatural biker characters, and then nodded, feeling sheepish, and followed the two of them out of the shop and onto the quiet side-street outside.

Until six months ago, Adi hadn’t known anything about bikes either, so she used your introductory tutorial as a kind of test for herself, interspersed with little glances up at Țepeș to check that she’d got it right. He either nodded or pointed to correct her, but he didn’t speak. She hadn’t been kidding about him being mostly non-verbal.

After Adi had shown you the basics of the bike’s anatomy, Țepeș patted the seat of the bike and gestured to her to get on it, but she laughed and shook her head. “No way, babe. I’m way too short.”

He put his fists comically on his hips and shook his head, then patted the seat again like he was trying to get a wilful cat up onto a chair.

She made a noise of protest, but did swing a leg over and then hoisted herself evenly into the seat, both legs dangling freely a good way off the ground.

“Happy now?” she shot at him and he nodded emphatically, bringing both hands to the sides of his helmet in a way that mimicked a person losing their mind over a cute kitten. “You’re lucky I love you, you overgrown dork,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to you. “Since this beast has made me get up here, I’m going to start his bike. Not so funny now that I could actually fuck it up, is it?” she grinned.

Țepeș remained perfectly still, and you got the impression it was a comical warning.

“I can’t flat-foot it,” she said to you, “So I’m gonna rest my left foot on the curb after I’ve flicked the kickstand up,” she said. “You can’t start most bikes with the kickstand still down.”

You noted that down, and let her get on with the rest of the sequence uninterrupted, which seemed a lot more complicated than you’d imagined.

Near the end of your tutorial on how to start a bike and the basics of clutch control, and the apparent struggle to find neutral, the sound of a number of approaching engines tore through the quiet afternoon. You looked back over your shoulder to see three sports bikes round the corner and make their way towards you.

The three riders couldn’t have been more different. The one you noticed first was riding a big, brash, bright orange bike that reminded you a bit of a sporty looking dirt bike, and he was wearing, of all things, a black and white cow onesie, with a cow helmet cover complete with fabric horns and ears.

“Fucking Pumpkin,” Adi laughed. “Honestly. I think you’ll love him.”

“Pumpkin?” you asked, wondering how on earth he’d got that name. Then again, Țepeș was a pretty unusual nickname. Perhaps he was a vampire under all that leather, shielding himself from the fury of the sun with his biker gear just so he could spend more time with his human lover during the day… You yanked your over-active imagination back into the present and out of your fantasy novel, and watched the trio of bikers approach down the quiet side street.

“Yeah, Pumpkin’s his name. It’s because he’s a —” Țepeș elbowed Adi in the ribs sharply enough that she had to grab the handlebars to stop herself toppling off his bike. Her eyes went wide and she instantly clicked her jaw shut.

As an author, you were used to watching and studying people, and noting your observations for later. Another writer you knew online had called it ‘cataloguing the everyday’, and it was an apt description. Adi had very nearly given away something huge about Pumpkin, and Țepeș had given her a silent but stern warning.

“Because he loves pranks, like on Halloween?” she finished a little too quickly. “He dresses up with silly helmet covers all the time and he likes to play jokes on people.”

Maybe he wasn’t your kind of person at all. The very idea of having a practical joke pulled on you was enough to make you feel sick and shaky all over. You'd always hated them, and they’d always left you feeling devastated and on-edge if they happened to you. The more you trusted the person, the worse it felt afterwards.

Țepeș’ huge hand landed carefully on your shoulder joint and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly at you. At least, you thought he was smiling reassuringly. All you could see were his glinting black eyes that were creased at the corners, and the way the apples of his pale cheeks were slightly more squished than usual behind the padding in his helmet.

You tried out a smile of your own, and then realised that Adi was talking again.

“He’s such a goofball, but that’s got to be his craziest outfit yet! You should see his other helmet covers; they’re all bonkers. My favourite is the pink rabbit one.”

Țepeș nodded once in agreement and let go of your shoulder. You swayed a little at the loss, feeling untethered.

“The guy on the red Ducati is Demon, and the short one on the Ninja in the middle is Pickle.”

When the newcomers spotted the three of you standing around Țepeș’ bike, Pumpkin revved raucously, almost seeming to make his bike laugh with joy at the sight of you. Then he hauled it up into a massive wheelie, only dropping back down once he’d torn past you in a near-vertical pose. Your heart was in your mouth the whole time, but he looked relaxed and even amused behind that absurd costume as he landed it and swerved the bike around to make his way back towards you while the other two came over in a more sedate fashion. In fact, they were so sedate it reminded you of two sharks approaching, and your mouth went dry. Adi had said they were cool with you being there and asking questions, but just then, it didn’t really feel like it.

The one riding the lurid, neon green bike was so short that you wondered for a crazy second if maybe they were a child. The owner of the red bike revved his something wicked as he cruised to a stop, and you had to fight the urge to step back. It felt like being roared at full in the face by a lion, and it didn’t help at all that the guy had curling ram’s horns adorning his black helmet. Even though it was a nippy autumn day, he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off a golden tan and a truly impressive physique, and his black jeans had a rip in the knee that added to his tough-guy appearance.

Standing beside his own bike, Țepeș folded his arms and jutted his chin in a warning. Demon revved his deafening bike once more though, and the back wheel skimmed from side to side on the tarmac as blue smoke churned up into the air.

Țepeș shook his head and a few seconds later, Demon stopped his mini burnout, and instead leaned forwards on the bike, resting one arm casually on the tank. His whole attention was fixed on you and you tried hard not to regret all of this. It was research. You were here for your story. It was fine. His visor was tinted like Țepeș’ was, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze through the plastic just as clearly as if there had been nothing blocking his eyes from yours.

“Just giving a welcome to your new friend, Țepeș,” the guy purred in a silky baritone that made you think of teeth in the dark.

As the brief puff of acrid smoke from his tyres cleared, the short rider flipped their visor up and regarded you with beady, golden eyes that had to be contacts, surely? Even the pupils were slitted like a cat’s.

“Who’s this?” came a reedy, tenor voice from under the helmet. Definitely not a child after all, and their skin had a strange, greenish tinge to it that you initially took to be makeup until you realised it went all the way down their cheeks as well. Tattoos? Some kind of condition? You tried not to stare.

Before either you or Adi could respond to their question, the cow onesie rider screeched to a comical halt beside the other two, locking up the front wheel and making the rear of his bike kick up like a bronco, and Adi shook her head. “Pumpkin, honestly. What are you like?”

“I’m Legen-dairy!” he grinned, gesturing wide with both hands. “Oh, hey! New friend?!” he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically when he saw you standing awkwardly beside Țepeș’ bike. He had a lilting Irish accent and a playful intonation that warmed you to him immediately, despite knowing about his penchant for practical jokes.

“Don’t mind Pumpkin,” Adi smiled at you. “He’s… something else.”

“I’m highly a-moo-sing, is what I am,” the guy chuckled. His words sounded clearer than the others behind their helmets, and you wondered if it was something about the design that made it easier to hear him.

“Oh god, please stop with the cow puns,” Pickle groaned, casting him a withering look with those unusual eyes.

“But Pickle, I’m udderly fantastic!”

“Stop.”

“This is just plain bull-ying!” Pumpkin whined, and then he started to bop up and down on his bike as he sang, “My milkshake brings—”

“If you howl one more out of tune word, Demon will eat you for breakfast, and not in a fun way,” Pickle said, casting a glance at the biker with the horns on his helmet.

For answer, the biker in question cocked his head just a little to one side, and Pumpkin slumped in his seat, arms and legs dangling comically, head lolling forwards so that the soft horns on his helmet cover flopped. He let out a long, sad mooing noise sound that dissolved into giggles at the end, and Pickle punched him on the arm.

“Loser,” Pickle snorted with obvious fondness.

“Anyway, I want you to meet my friend,” Adi cut in, turning to you. “I’m sorry you had to meet Pumpkin when he’s in this mood, but —”

“Moo-d!” Pumpkin interrupted triumphantly and immediately burst out laughing. He almost tipped backwards off his big, orange bike. Even you managed to crack a shy smile at that one. It was infectious.

“I give up,” Pickle said, and hopped down off his green Kawasaki, disappearing into the shop without a backward glance just as Hank stepped out.

“How’s that lesson going?” he asked you.

“I’m not planning on riding solo any time soon,” you smiled, “But I’ve got enough of an idea of how things work to start writing, I think.”

Hank nodded and, glancing around at Pumpkin who was still bouncing up and down and making his suspension creak a little, said, “Ah, they’re all idiots, but they’re kind, and they’re my idiots.”

He introduced you by name, and told Pumpkin and Demon why you were there. Pumpkin seemed intrigued, tilting his head to one side and calming his crazy energy a little as he regarded you through the tinted visor, but Demon growled softly as he pushed himself upright again and folded his arms across his ripped chest, muttering something about letting their guard down again.

Țepeș moved away from his bike, petting the back of Adi’s blonde head in a fond, distracted gesture, and then signalled for Demon to follow him inside, which, to your surprise, the big guy did. He walked like a Greek god — like he owned the place and not Hank — but it was clear that he had respect for Țepeș.

Pumpkin took advantage of their absence and leaned a little way off his bike towards you. “So, you’re a writer? That’s pretty cool. And you’re writing a… a book? A story? About bikers?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the main focus, but it’s a big part of it.” If you hadn’t wanted to open up to Adi about it being a supernatural fantasy story, you sure as heck weren’t going to admit it to a bunch of intimidating, high-octane bikers. “It was Adi who suggested I come and learn a bit more about it all from you guys though…” you said, not wanting them to think you’d just inserted yourself into their group without invitation. Especially given Demon’s weird reaction.

“Awesome,” Pumpkin said, fist-bumping Adi then turning back to you. “You gonna ride with us? We’re all heading out in a bit so you should come too!”

“I… maybe?” you faltered. That had not been on the cards for the day, but the more you thought about it, the more your heart began to race.

“The KTM has a passenger seat,” Pumpkin said, gesturing behind him and patting his pillion seat. “You can be my backpack if you like! I promise I won’t wheelie. I’m not taking the onesie off though,” he added, mooing and shaking his head so that the fabric horns waggled comically.

His energy and enthusiasm really were infectious. He bounced up and down again like an excitable, cow-print puppy, and you bit your lip. The idea of holding onto him, of being perched on the back of his mad, orange bike, was oddly… enticing. Even with his embarrassing costume.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun! It’s only a short ride because Coco’s Honda’s playing up for some reason,” he added. “Is she here yet? I don’t see her little bumblebee…”

“Bumblebee?” you asked.

“Coco’s bike is a Honda Hornet,” Adi supplied. “She’s got these little antennae for her helmet too. It’s so cute. And no,” she added to Pumpkin. “You guys are the first.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the day’s riders to arrive, and soon you watched a screaming pink bike roll up, with its rider wearing baby pink leathers and a pink helmet. Her name was Barbie, appropriately enough, and a few minutes later, a skinny guy in all black leathers with a black helmet bearing a decal like a maw full of teeth pulled up, alongside Coco on her black and yellow Honda Hornet that looked very much like the Transformer.

“I see why you call it Bumblebee,” you said to Adi, who was standing on the pavement with you, chatting and slipping you random bits of information about both the bikes and the bikers. The others had all gone inside, leaving you with Adi still casually sitting astride her boyfriend’s enormous, black Ducati Streetfighter outside in the sunshine, and honestly it was nice to catch your breath and let your heart rate settle again.

Pumpkin, apparently, was only a few years older than you, and he had moved to the city to get away from his family and their career expectations for him. His name was actually Callahan, or Cal, but literally everyone called him Pumpkin.

Pickle was non-binary and surprisingly a full decade older than you. They lived with their mother, who needed a bit of extra care these days, and had taken up riding only a year or so ago. Demon, Adi didn’t discuss at all, and she said little about Barbie other than that she kept herself to herself a lot and was pretty shy.

Coco came out to soak up some autumn sunshine a while later, and was one of the only bikers who actually took off her helmet. Beneath it, she had thick, wavy, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that made you want to drown in them, and a smile so pretty it made your heart skip several beats. She gave off the kind of energy that made you feel safe and relaxed, and you let out a long, slow exhale, feeling the sun wash up over your skin.

That peace lasted until Demon stormed out of the shop, followed by Pumpkin, Țepeș, and Pickle.

“Everything ok?” Adi whispered to Țepeș when he came over and hugged her tightly from behind before passing her a spare helmet. He nodded and jerked his thumb towards his bike. “Yeah, I’m good to go. You coming?” she asked you, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even realised.

“Yes!” Pumpkin bayed in triumph and you startled, not having heard him return to his bike. “You’re mine! I claim you. You’re my backpack!”

“Like anyone else wants a human for baggage,” Demon muttered so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to have heard it. As he passed, he slammed his visor back down and you could have sworn that he’d had completely scarlet eyes. You wondered if you were losing your mind a little bit, or if the fantasy of your novel was beginning to bleed into the real world through your over-active imagination.

Pumpkin practically vaulted back up onto his orange bike and he held out his hand to you. “Alright! My precious and beautiful backpack,” he said, “Hop on!”

Easier said than done, you thought, ignoring the compliment. You watched your reflection distort in his visor as he turned his head when you faltered anxiously.

“I’ll look after you, I promise. But I’m gonna rely on you to tell me if Pickle’s coming for my killswitch, ok?”

Recalling your brief lesson with Țepeș, you eyed the red switch on his right handlebar and said, “That?”

“Yeah, that. Protect it at all costs,” he giggled. “I mean, not all costs, obviously but… Actually, scratch that. It’s Ninja you wanna watch out for. He’s a sneaky, sneaky boy. He blends in so no one sees him coming…” A few of them laughed in a way that made you feel like there was more to it than just an inside joke, and your stomach churned.

A glance back at the skinny guy on the black bike behind you revealed Ninja tilting his hands outwards in a ‘who, me?’ kind of gesture. Hank came over and gave you a helmet, taking your messenger bag from you and promising to keep it safe behind the counter. You slid the helmet on and buckled it up, trying not to feel like an impostor.

Getting aboard wasn’t as hard as you’d thought it was going to be, with brief instruction from Adi and Pumpkin on how to put your feet on the pegs, though you did clunk your helmet against Pumpkin’s when you leaned too far forward, but he made things easier by telling you to hold him round the waist. He turned back over one shoulder and said, “It’s kinda forward, but I don’t mind. You’re cute and I don’t want you falling off.” He had such a lovely voice — warm and rich and reassuring — and you found yourself laughing softly.

“If you say so.”

Pumpkin talked a mile a minute and you really had to work to process everything he was saying as it tumbled out of him in a wild, happy torrent. “You are cute! You’re gonna have a blast today. I can’t believe I’m your first! Oh, and watch out for silly string too. I don’t think Pickle has any in their pocket today, but last time they got me good and it was all over my helmet and my orange baby,” he added petting the tank of his bike.

Your heart lurched at the idea of these pranks maybe escalating, and you tried to swallow down the nausea; you did not want to be sick in a motorcycle helmet. The cold sweat took a while to evaporate and you were sure Pumpkin would feel your heartbeat as you clung onto him before he’d even started the bike. The cow onesie did add a little levity though, and you tried not to feel too silly.

When Adi was safely aboard Țepeș’ bike, Țepeș revved his readiness a few times from the rear of the group, and Pumpkin nodded. “Forward!” he yelled, pointing like he was leading a cavalry charge as he nudged up his kickstand and prepared to draw away.

Adi had been right.

The ride was amazing.

Terrifying, exhilarating, wonderful, and, in the strangest way possible, it made you forget everything.

All you could focus on was the way Pumpkin moved with the bike like it was a part of him — almost like a rider and his horse — and on trying to move with him as he leaned into the corners. He was slim and fit beneath your grip, and he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of padding under the onesie, but he was wearing biker boots instead of ordinary shoes. There was something alluring about the fact you’d not seen his face and he’d not taken his helmet off. Țepeș had a similar vibe, but it was Pumpkin and his wild, silly energy you found yourself drawn to. It was almost euphoric to be able to press the front of your body against this kind, funny stranger’s back and let him sweep you along the roads.

Of course, there were shenanigans at the first red light you came to.

Pickle came for Pumpkin’s killswitch immediately — almost like they were testing you — but you tapped Pumpkin on the shoulder when you saw Pickle stalking up the line of bikes. Ninja covered his killswitch and waggled a finger at Pickle, and when Pumpkin saw who was coming, he patted your thigh a few times. “Nice one,” he said with a grin evident in his voice. “Best early warning system and best backpack ever! You can ride with me every time!”

You glowed with pride, even though you knew it was probably only fun and games, and when Pickle failed to catch Pumpkin’s killswitch and the lights changed, you laughed with the rest of them as Pickle bolted back to their Ninja and hopped comically onto it at the very last second while Pumpkin sped away fast enough to make you yelp and grip him hard around the middle. You felt him laugh and held him tighter.

He petted your hands where they were laced securely in front of him, and even though you didn’t have comms in your helmet, you got the message: ‘I’ve got you’. You did feel safe with him despite his love of pranks, and you were literally trusting him with your life as you rode behind him.

When the ride came to an end about an hour later, and the group drew to a halt at Full Moon Motorcycles again, you were shaky with the aftereffects of adrenaline and from simply holding on, but beneath your helmet, you were grinning wildly. Secretly, you already couldn’t wait for the next ride and prayed he would ask you again.

Pickle pulled their bike up on your right, the green Ninja 400 idling gently, and when they killswitched Pumpkin’s bike at last, Pumpkin guffawed, but without missing a beat he extended his right leg and tapped the gear lever down to put Pickle’s bike into first, making the bike stall and lurch forwards.

“Gotcha!” he crowed, and then helped you off the back by letting you steady yourself on his shoulders. “And for the pièce de résistance,” he said, fishing in the pouch of his onesie, and he turned something cylindrical in your direction. “I was saving this for Pickle, but since it’s your first ride, you deserve a decent celebration!”

With a loud bang and a flurry of coloured squares of paper, a confetti cannon went off in your face and you screeched in shock, tripping over your heels and landing hard on the pavement behind you. The pieces of paper fluttered down around you while panic and fear and everything you hated about being pranked exploded out of you. Your heartbeat went through the roof. You just glimpsed the horns of Demon’s helmet in the doorway to the shop, and your heart dropped when you saw he was laughing.

Pumpkin was laughing too, and pointing, and beside him Pickle clapped their gloved hands and crooned, “Oh man, he got you good!”

He had got you good, and you hated it.

You hated that it was just a silly, harmless prank, but you were reacting like he’d done something serious. You hated that you couldn’t just laugh it off the way they all did. You hated that you took it so seriously; that it felt like the worst kind of betrayal of that fragile trust you’d started to put in a stranger. And then, behind the visor of your helmet, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A huge figure appeared in your blurred vision and you looked up to find Țepeș kneeling down beside you. He blocked the others from your sight with his massive body, and he lifted his visor to show his black eyes full of concern.

You nodded, trying to pull yourself together and grateful beyond belief that the helmet was still covering your face, even though it felt like you were running out of oxygen in there. Pulling yourself together was like trying to hold a bag full of sand with fraying seams. You were seeping and spilling out all over the place and you couldn’t stop. You tried to tell yourself it was just a confetti cannon. You tried to tell yourself it was just a bit of fun.

You tried, and failed.

“I’m… I’m ok… I’m…” you gulped, aware of how choked your voice sounded.

Țepeș stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet and ushering you carefully inside. You didn’t miss the way he put himself between you and Demon, who was still snickering in the doorway, and you let him lead you into the shop and into the back room.

He snagged a box of tissues from under the shop’s counter in passing and guided you into a chair. He signalled for you to undo your helmet, which you did with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry,” you gulped as you drew it off over your head and set it on the floor. “I’m sorry I’m overreacting.”

Țepeș shook his head and squeezed your shoulder, offering you a tissue.

“It’s just a prank, I know that, but…”

Again, he squeezed your shoulder, and you took a deeper, steadier breath.

“I hate pranks. Even the harmless ones. I always overreact like this. I’m sorry. It’s not his fault, but… I thought… I thought maybe he… he wouldn’t…”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Țepeș made a ‘stay there’ gesture with his hand and ducked out of the room. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation passed outside while you fought to control yourself again, and then Pumpkin ducked inside.

“Hey,” he said, and your heart broke a little at the change in his energy. It was like he’d completely deflated. He was still wearing the cow onesie though, which brought a slightly hysterical chuckle to your lips before you could stop it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of your chair. “I… I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“It’s not you,” you said, sniffling and turning away, cuffing at your eyes. “I just overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he said, and your brain screeched to a halt.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have done it to you. I didn’t know if you were cool with it, and I just assumed that… that because everyone else likes my pranks… that you’d be ok with it too, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never ever pull anything like that on you again. Ever.” He crossed his thumb across his heart. “I swear on my True Name.”

The wording was odd, but the air seemed to crystallise around you for a second, and your breath caught. “Like a Fae,” you mumbled without thinking.

He tilted his helmeted head a little. “Yeah,” he said and his voice had an odd ring to it. “You… You know about… about the Fae?”

“I’m writing a book…” you croaked, not really thinking about what you were saying. “Supernatural theme… I’ve always written fantasy stuff… Look, I’m sorry. I’m over-sharing about stuff that isn’t even real. I’m good,” you said, and stood up abruptly, setting your borrowed helmet down on the chair and turning to look at him. He was on his feet again, but he was just standing there.

You walked out into the main shop but he called your name and you halted and turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Are… Are you gonna come back?”

You bit your lip. You probably had enough to write the book now — the biker part of it wasn’t even the main focus after all — but until the prank, you’d felt included and welcomed, and, as you thought about it, the prank had also been meant to welcome you into the fold. It wasn’t Pumpkin’s fault that you had reacted the way you did.

“You want me to?” you asked.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I’d love it. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted to be my backpack before, and you rode like a natural today,” he added, taking a step towards you. “Please. I promise no one will do any pranks when you’re with us. No silly string, no confetti cannons.”

“I don’t mind it… With the others, I mean,” you said, the words grinding out of you like a boulder uphill. “I mean… So long as it’s not me.”

“Ok, we’ll dial it back,” he compromised. “I’ll even give you one of my little stretchy sticky hands if you like so you can team up on Pickle with me. We duel at the lights sometimes. Does that count as a prank?”

You shook your head, fighting back a resurgence of emotions, mostly good this time.

“Ok. I’m really sorry,” he said again.

“I believe you,” you said.

“Thank you,” Pumpkin replied, his whole body looking relieved. It was amazing how expressive someone could be, even without being able to see their face. “Let me give you my number and I’ll text you when we’re going out next. Or… Or maybe we could go out just the two of us?”

That seemed like way more pressure than you’d been expecting, but you nodded all the same when you realised you weren’t put off by it at all.

As you left the shop not long afterwards, having recovered enough to let the red fade from your eyes, Demon looked you up and down and then approached Pumpkin. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him looming down over Pumpkin, and you just caught him growling, “What happens when you need to take that helmet off eh, Dullahan? You think that cute accent is going to be enough to hide the fact you don’t have a fucking head under there?”

Your breath caught and you tripped, turning away before either of them could notice your reaction.

For a moment, when Demon had spat the word ‘Dullahan’ you’d thought he’d said ‘Callahan’ — Pumpkin’s real name — but the instant he’d said Pumpkin didn’t have a head, your mind made the connection.

Dullahan.

A Fae without a head, traditionally a headless horseman.

The way Pumpkin had moved with his bike, like it was a living creature, had reminded you of a horse and its rider, and you had to wonder if the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ had come from the cartoonish depictions of Dullahans on Halloween with a pumpkin for a head instead of their real one. They did have a head, you knew from research for your writing, but they tended to keep it hidden since that was where their power resided. They could only be harmed if you hurt their head, or if they were wearing it when you attacked them.

But that was all fantasy, right?

Then Demon’s red eyes flickered across your memory, and the weird emphasis he’d put on the word ‘human’ in his snide remarks, and the way you’d thought maybe Țepeș was a vampire because he kept his skin covered up, and the fact that Pickle’s skin was entirely green and they had gold eyes with cat’s pupils… it was all way too much of a coincidence. Right?

You walked home in a daze, not even saying goodbye to Adi who was talking quietly with Țepeș in the long, late afternoon shadows cast by the bike shop’s wall.

Over the next few rides with Pumpkin, you tried to figure out a way to broach the topic. If you just blurted it out, you had no idea how the others would react, so you dropped little hints to Pumpkin that you were writing a supernatural story and that you’d been researching the supernatural for a while, and how you’d always hoped there was more out there than met the eye. You even mentioned it a couple of times on group rides to see how the others reacted, and predictably, it was Demon who bristled, and Pumpkin who looked uncomfortable. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell you.

Each time you did it, he looked torn, like he was right on the cusp of telling you the truth.

It finally came to an ugly head one afternoon as the riding season drew to a close in late October and you all came back from a huge group ride that had included a few more riders whom you’d not met before, but who evidently knew the rest of the group.

As you went inside to return the helmet that Hank always lent you, you caught the sound of an argument and hung back in the small storage room behind the main shop to avoid it, heart in your throat and the helmet forgotten in one hand.

Pickle was standing in the main area of the shop with their helmet dangling from their hand this time, and you gasped when you saw sharply-tapered ears and a row of pointed teeth in their mouth, and green skin that went all the way down below their collar. Definitely not a tattoo. They looked sharp, their features inhuman; like one of the goblins in your novel. If you’d needed confirmation that they weren’t human, this had to be it.

Pickle was arguing with Adi and Demon, and Pumpkin was there too, looking helplessly from one to the other of them.

Demon was shouting, and he didn’t have his helmet on either. Perhaps they’d thought you’d already left. The horns that adorned his helmet were… actually attached to his head, not his helmet. He had horns. They obviously grew from his hairline, his black hair waving around them like a river of oil that had a rainbow sheen on it, and his eyes were a luminous, blood-red with slit pupils too. He rounded on Pumpkin like a Wolf on a rabbit. “You think just because we let Țepeș’ little human blood-bag in, we can risk exposing us all to just anyone?” Demon snarled. “I thought you wanted to keep our kind a secret? Now you’re siding with him?”

“Hey!” Adi exclaimed, but Pickle’s lip curled and they turned to her.

“He has got a point, Adi, though the blood-bag comment was way out of line,” Pickle said. “We have to be careful, but —”

“This is different,” Pumpkin interjected. “Ok? I’ve never been in love before, and I love —”

“No. It’s not fucking ok! This is the one place we get to be who we are,” Demon countered, his deep voice cracking as he clearly fought off tears. He sounded afraid and upset in a way that went right to your heart. “This is the one place where we can be safe, Cal, and you’re jeopardising it for all of us. And if we start letting humans in, if our secret gets out —”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Pickle said faintly, staring straight at you watching the argument unfold, stunned. They were arguing because of you. Because Pumpkin had taken a liking to you — in fact, he’d just said he loved you…

A pair of gold eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes stared at you, while Adi stood there hugging herself and looking hurt and unsure, and Pumpkin was standing stock still with his black helmet still on but you knew he was looking at you too. Was he going to defend you, or discard you and stick with his friends? They weren’t human. None of them was human. Demon’s eyes were blaring a violent red and he had horns growing out of his black hairline and curling back over his head, and there was a watercolour patch of red creeping over his golden tan as if he was losing control of his form. And Pickle was apparently some kind of goblin?

“You’re a Dullahan,” you said quietly, looking at Pumpkin. “A Fae.”

“You know?” Demon hissed, taking half a step towards you. “How the fuck do you know?” and then he shoved Pumpkin back with a hand at each shoulder. “You’ve taken your helmet off already? Did you disclose your head’s location while you were at it?”

Pumpkin shook his head vehemently but then he lifted his shiny, black helmet off in what looked like an act of defiance to Demon.

In the void where his head should have been there was a swirl of bluish-green smoke emanating from the stump of his neck, like the aurora in the night sky, and his skin was a dark, slate-blue colour. Your mind struggled to accept what you were seeing, but with the additional evidence of Pickle’s green skin and Demon’s horns, you knew it all had to be true.

Walking closer, as if moving through a dream, you ignored Demon’s constant, caged-animal growl, but you did jump when the door flew open and Țepeș burst in. He strode straight over to Adi and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, tugging her close and putting himself between her and the others. He cocked his head in an impatiently curious manner and Adi answered his silent demand.

“Demon’s laying into Pumpkin about flirting with a human while hiding what he is,” Adrianne said, glaring flatly at Demon. “And he called me your blood-bag,” she added.

Țepeș’ fists curled, leather creaking, and he took a long, slow inhale, as though he was trying very hard not to lose control and launch himself at Demon.

Before anything else could happen, someone clapped their hands abruptly from the side of the shop where the till and the bikes were arrayed, and you all jumped.

Hank was standing there and his eyes were glowing golden. “This family is built on trust,” he said in a low, gravelly bass, and you saw that his canines were chunkier and longer than they usually were, and his hair seemed thicker and fuller, his beard a little bushier around the chops. “And if we welcome each other into it, we must be prepared to trust each other’s judgement.”

“We’re just a little research project!” Demon said, rounding on you. “Adi told you what we are, didn’t she, so you thought you’d come and study us like a science experiment?”

You were still staring at Pumpkin’s empty collar and wondering in an odd, detached kind of way where it would be considered polite for you to look now — did you look at the point where his eyes would be if he had a head, or did you look at his chest? Only a second or two later did Demon’s words filter through and you blinked. “What?”

“You’re writing a fucking book about us! How does that count as trustworthy?”

“I’m not — It’s not about you,” you shot back. “The book isn’t about you. The protagonist is dating a vampire who’s in a biker gang, but… Adi didn’t tell me anything at all about you. I didn’t know you weren’t human until… until I overheard you accusing Pumpkin a few weeks ago. You said something about not having a head under his helmet, and you called him a Dullahan.” You swallowed thickly and watched the shock filter through everyone’s expressions at your words. “At first I thought you were saying his name, but then I realised you said ‘Dullahan’, not ‘Callahan’, and because I’ve looked into supernatural stuff, I put two and two together. I’ve known for weeks,” you said, chest heaving as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure while you finished your defence. “I could have said something, or I could have just not come back, but I trusted you guys.” Tears finally blurred your vision. “You treated me like family. Why would I betray you?”

Pumpkin moved first.

He strode across he space, dropping his helmet on the floor with a loud crack that would have made anyone who needed a helmet to protect their head wince, but you figured his was purely for decoration and disguise anyway. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you close to his body. His arms almost lifted you off the ground and he cradled your head in one hand while his left arm curled around your waist and squeezed you so tight you gave a little wheeze.

His voice came from nowhere in particular, just like it did when he had the helmet on, and he said, “You are family. And I love you. If I have to leave this one to be with you, I will.”

Your heart stopped for a moment before you hugged him back, desperately. “Don’t. Not for me.”

He only hugged you harder.

From somewhere off to your left, Hank gave a low, rumbling growl and then muttered, “Kids. Honestly.” Then a little louder, he said, “Demon, go and cool off somewhere. Țepeș, for God’s sake, stand down, and Pickle, go and put the fucking kettle on. I need a cup of tea with half a bottle of whisky in it after all this drama.”

Pumpkin drew back at last, and you looked up at the haze of blue-green smoke that seemed to swirl upwards in a constant stream, like a recently extinguished candle. “How can you see me?” you asked. And then, with a little more alarm in your tone, you yelped, “Wait, how can you see where you’re driving?”

He laughed and leaned in close enough that the aurora-light swirled across your vision and caressed your face with a feather light breath, and you shivered. “Magic,” he whispered.

Demon hadn’t gone anywhere, and was regarding you with a more level gaze. His eyes were still red though. “You knew?” he said. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” you croaked as you refocused your eyes from the magic of the Dullahan’s body to Demon’s very much corporeal body. “I mean, I suspected.”

He sighed, still staring you down. Pumpkin stepped a little in front of you, much as Țepeș had for Adi, but Demon shook his head. He worked his jaw for a second and then slowly held out his right hand. His skin was red instead of the golden tan it had been, and his nails were black and claw-like, but the gesture was one of reconciliation all the same. “Welcome to the family, I guess,” he muttered hoarsely.

You smiled faintly, and Pumpkin took your left hand in a show of solidarity, sliding his gloved fingers around yours while you briefly shook Demon’s hand. “I really didn’t know what you guys were when you said I could come and hang out with you, I swear.”

“I know,” Demon bit out. “I can taste a lie, and you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he stalked away and carefully slotted his helmet on over his horns. You realised that there were specially-tailored holes in the crown of it for the horns to fit through, but when it was on, some kind of glamour made it look like the horns were just attached to the surface of the helmet. Outside, he swung a leg over his Ducati and started it up, revving it and launching away amid a scream of tyres and over-worked engine.

“Give him time,” Pumpkin said as he looked down at you. In the swirl of the smoke at his neck you thought you could make out the features of a face for a moment, but you blinked and it vanished. “You’re family now though, so he won’t give you any more trouble.”

“He did just insult Adi pretty spectacularly,” you pointed out.

“And he’ll apologise to her,” Pumpkin said. Țepeș loomed threateningly beside Adi in silent agreement. “For now, you want to come for a ride with just me? Come back to my place maybe?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bet you have questions too…”

“You going to fact-check my novel for me?” you asked with a playful smile, and Pumpkin laughed. It felt right to hear his loud, giggly laughter filling the space again.

“You’d actually have to let me read it for that, love, and you said you didn’t like showing your work to anyone until it was done.”

“I could make an exception for you, I guess,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

With Pumpkin still holding your hand, you paused on your way out to check on Adi, who looked a little hurt but otherwise alright, and you promised to check in with her later. Țepeș handed Pumpkin his helmet, and you let yourself be led from the shop. Your helmet was still in your slightly numb fingers, never having put it down, so you slid it back on with shaky hands.

After climbing with familiar ease back up onto the pillion seat of Pumpkin’s orange KTM, you snaked your arms around his middle and squeezed.

“I’m sorry it all came out this way,” Pumpkin said before he started up his bike. “This was not how I planned to tell you. I had no idea how I was going to break it to you, but that… that wasn’t it. I know you hate surprises, and that was a big one.”

“Not all surprises are bad,” you admitted. “And this one turned out ok in the end. Come on. I want to find out how much I’ve got wrong about the Fae.”

Pumpkin guffawed, his laughter audible even after he’d started up his bike and pulled away.

Turns out, you’d quite a lot wrong about the Fae after all, but Pumpkin was only too happy to put you right over pizza and a movie on his sofa that evening.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

Do you want to see the other members of the group? Remember you can find out more about them here in this early post if you're curious. Tepes already has a love interest, and Ninja the mimic is claimed too, but if you're curious, lemme know!

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#supernatural biker group #dullahan #male dullahan #dullahan x reader #reader insert #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster biker #fantasy biker #biker dullahan #demon #vampire #werewolf

362 notes · View notes

toki-hotel · 1 year

Note

Can you please write more on sub bill? Like maybe a fic about female reader getting mad because bill keeps teasing reader in a interview or while around the band and reader gets mad and decides to punish bill and he’s very needy but reader absolutely refuses to let him touch her but gives in on all the whining and crying and also the 2008’s bill please!!!

YES I've got you ;)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sub!Bill, dacryphilia, kind of public touching, spit, edging, fem!reader

It started early in the morning, at 6 to be exact. Before your alarm could even go off, there was incessant knocking on your hotel room door. Blurry-eyed, you stumble out of bed to glance through the peephole.

Bill is standing on the other side in a black top and flannel pajama pants. Bare-faced and hair undone, he somehow looks wide awake.

"Bill? What are you doing here? It's too early." You groan and attempt to rub some sleep out of your eyes.

"I wanted to see you, I woke up an hour ago but couldn't fall back asleep." He sighs and leans on the ajar door. Pleading brown eyes bare down into yours.

Glancing back at the red illuminating clock sitting on the nightstand, you groan again, knowing that Bill won't like your response. "I have to start getting ready, and you do too! We have interviews at 8."

"I know, but just for a little bit..." He leans closer to you.

"No. Go get ready and we can talk later." You stand your ground knowing that a little bit would turn into a while. You don't want to hear any more bandmates' complaints about taking so long to get ready in the morning.

With a 'fine' grumbled under his breath he slumps back to the elevators at the end of the hall. You can start to predict what the rest of the day will entail from this single interaction, having experienced it many times before. Bill has days of being needy. You try your best to be there for him, but it tends to get out of control if you don't put your foot down at certain times, and this was one of those moments. A day full of interviews was your guys' schedule so you knew that you would have to work your way around it to appease him.

As expected, Bill continued his antics. The car ride consisted of him squeezing in next to you, he tried to talk to you, but most of it was one-sided. The lack of sleep and sudden awakening had put your head in a hazy mindset. You listened and most of your responses were ones of few words.

The half hour breakfast break you had was cherished by the band. Tour managers still used it to discuss the upcoming interviews, but Bill didn't seem to care. His mind was elsewhere.

The entire group was sitting at a large table in the dining hall. With plates filled of breakfast food you sit by one another, Bill across from you. It started with him stealing food off your plate, knowing he's looking for a response you play along and tell him off, but go back to listening to the manager's rundown of the day.

He didn't like this.

You almost choke on the water you were sipping when you feel a foot bumping into yours, not so lightly too. You look up to the offender in front of you. Brown eyes are already pointed at you with mischief and an evil smirk. You give him the dirtiest glare you can muster, but this only seems to make his smirk grow more. The foot drags itself up your ankle and to the inside of your calf. Knowing that all he wants is more of your attention you look away again.

This only spurs him on more. The same appendage slowly works its way to your knee and inner thigh, but you hold strong and nod along to what George says. Bill seems to calm down and let it linger, minutes pass and you begin to assume that this is what he wanted: to touch you while he is forced to be distant from you.

The boot jumps to the front of your pants. A zing of electricity runs from your heat, up your spine to the back of your head. That asshole! You can't help but jump in your seat at the sudden movement and when you whip your head to Bill he isn't even looking at you. He's also nodding along to what the others are saying, his chin is resting on his palm, but his hand is barely covering the laugh that breaks through.

"Excuse me. I'm just gonna run to the washroom." Standing up the chair screeches behind you. Not waiting for a response from the others, you give a pointed look to the man who can't seem to leave you alone for five minutes.

Bill Excuses himself too and trails behind your fleeting form. Excitement is running through him and he can't help but picture all the things you could do to him. The dirty looks you gave him had his heart picking up. When you decided to ignore him AGAIN, he knew he had to up his antics.

He jogs to catch up to your body turning a corner into a quiet hallway. Once you know you guys are alone you whip back around. You knew he was following you, his jewelry clinked while he ran.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everything you were doing back there! Can you behave for a few hours? I told you we can talk once the interviews are done!" You cross your arms and look up at Bill.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." The tall man shrugs and crosses his arms as well.

A deep sigh is taken to calm the nerves brewing. "Don't play with me right now," you try to relax but the lack of sleep and anxiety about the interviews is making it hard, "please." With that, you cut around him and head back to the dining hall.

Bill is not satisfied though. Usually, you would do something to keep him satiated for a while. Hold his hand, give him a small kiss, or talk with him for a while. He isn't used to this lack of attention from you and he is starting to get mad himself. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The conversation wasn't supposed to end here.

Time has passed and Bill seemed to cut it down a notch. Small touches were still made here and there, but nothing dramatic like before.

Until after the first interview.

The team had a small 30 min. break until the next one. Entering into the next room, Gustav and George crash onto the couch. Tom finds his way to the snack table and cracks into a bottle of Coke. You're currently discussing with one of your managers how the first interview went and what was to come with the next.

Bill found his way to the couch, but without taking his eyes off of you. Thoughts about your last encounter kept flashing in his mind. He loved seeing you heated and the neediness he felt since waking up this morning only seemed to grow. His eyes traced up and down your figure. A heat started in his lower stomach.

Memories of past times entered next. How soft you felt in his hands, the way you tasted, and how you touched him. Bill couldn't take it anymore. When you broke away from the manager and made your way to the snack table he saw his next opportunity. He jumped from his spot and trailed after you again.

Your discussion with the manager only helped a little to ease your anxiety. The bottle of water on the table seemed to catch your eye and you made your way to it. You noticed Bill coming up too and smiled at him. Maybe you were too harsh.

"Hey." He stood behind you and rested his head on your shoulder. You mumbled a response back and took a sip of the water. "I miss you," he whined and wrapped his arms around you.

"I know, but after this next interview we have a few hours to relax back at the hotel." You reach your hand back to pet the mane of hair.

"We have some time now..." Bill pulls the hand away from the back of his head and puts it between you guys. His cock is hard and pressing into the back of your hand. " I just need you so bad. I can't stop thinking about you." Your jaw drops at his sudden change of demeanor. A heat starts in your lower stomach as well, a reflection of Bill's. What you thought was an innocent interaction switched into something completely different.

"Bill! What have I been telling you all morning?" You glare back at him this time and that same smirk has crept its way to his face. Black-rimmed eyes burn into your E/C ones. He laughs right in your shocked face and the silver of his tongue ring glints.

You pull your hand away from his tight grip and walk away. Plopping down onto the couch this time, you cross your arms and try to ignore the burning in your cheeks. Gustav and George are a little shocked at the sudden third addition to the couch but shrug and carry on with their conversation.

Bill stands satisfied at the snack table. Picking up your abandoned water bottle, he takes a gulp of water and licks his lips. Yet, he is still upset that you haven't really touched him.

The final straw for you is at the second interview. After fuming for the rest of the short break, you and the band file into another room to start the questions. All seems to be going well until the last question.

"How does touring affect your relationships with one another? Do you fight a lot?" The bands' responses are all reasonable, but of course, Bill has to open his big mouth.

"Y/N does get into moods though, she likes to ignore us!"

Your jaw drops at this accusation. While Tom snorts at this you lean past him to shoot Bill another one of your dirty looks, but he just grins right back at you.

Thats it. You've had enough and decide to get your revenge back at the hotel.

The car ride went by quick. You decided to sit as far away from Bill to avoid any more interactions. Once you got back to the hotel, you started to take advantage of the next free hours. The other guys retreated to their respective rooms to get some more sleep, but Bill follows you to yours.

You shut the door and he is already reaching for you.

"No," you grab the wrists that are in front of you, "I think I'm in one of my moods right now, and that means I'm ignoring you." It's your turn to start grinning at him.

"I was only kidding!" He sighs and watches you walk around him. You start taking off your jewelry and set it on the nightstand. He reaches for you again, but you just ignore him and dodge his touch again. "I didn't mean it." He pleads to you, tilting his head down to catch your eyes, but you just shrug your shoulders and carry on to take off your earrings.

Clink. Clink.

"Please," Bill wraps his arms back around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. To be honest, you've wanted him since the moment you saw his pretty face on the other side of the door but you have to stay strong. He can't get away with not listening to you, especially when he is so boldly defiant about it. "I'm sorry. I just need you so bad it makes me crazy!"

You turn around with a sigh and cross your arms. His eyes are pleading to you and you try your best to ignore how cute he looks. "Are you really being this needy right now? I've tried to be reasonable with you, but you can't even wait a couple of hours! You keep acting out and then you expect me to give you what you want?" You move to take off your bracelets and rings now.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

"Please. Please. Please." Bill grabs your hand and kisses your finger and trails them to your wrist. You can't lie about how good it feels to have him touch you, his soft lips trailing up your arm, past your shoulder, into the crook of your neck. "I'll be so good from now on. I just need you to touch me."

"Ok, but you'll take what I give you." You pull his head to yours and slot your lips together. He sighs his promise into the kiss and grabs your waist, pulling you close. He's sloppy and quick with his movements. Hands grab at anything they can reach.

You turn Bill around and walk yourselves to the bed. "Strip," You pull away and watch him pull his black t-shirt over his head. A long and lean torso is revealed along with the black star on his hip. A studded belt is next along with his boots and jeans.

Bill can't hold back the excitement that is bubbling within him. He's finally getting what he needed from you and the throbbing is making his head fuzzy. His lips feel swollen from the heated kisses and his breathing is picking up.

You crawl over him and take in the sight before you. Bill's brown puppy dog eyes take in your features and you can't wait to ruin him.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes," he pants out.

"Where," your lean your lips down to his and let the question brush out against him. He moves to grab one of your hands that is holding your weight beside his head, but you refuse to let him move you. "No, tell me where." Bill lets out a small cry at this and finally tells you.

"Anywhere. Everywhere!"

You coo out at this and brush some of his hair away from his face. The touch trails down his neck and chest, brushing past one of his nipples that makes his breathing jump, it ends at the waistband of his boxers. You pepper kisses to follow the same path as before and work down his body.

Bill is trying his best to be good, but all the emotions are bubbling up inside of him.

"Let's take these off." you slip the boxers down and watch his cock jump back up to slap his stomach. You lean down to lick a long stripe from the base to tip and watch up at him to see his head tilt back and his hips buck into you. You loved to see him get worked up

"Please..." He whimpers when you sit back up.

"You said you would take what I give you, If you're not gonna be good like you promised then I will stop right now."

"NO! No. I'll be good, just please don't stop."

"Good. Now spit." You hold your palm out beside his mouth and he does what you say. You slip your hand up and down his hot length, enjoying the way his eyebrows scrunch up at the pleasure.

Small whimpers make their way out of his mouth and his hands fist the bed sheets. His breathing picks up the faster you go and you lean over once more to spit on his cock. Bill's hips jump again from this and a loud moan tumble from his mouth. You can see that he's getting close, but you're not done with him.

German swears are whispered under his breath and his eyes are rolling back. "Look at me," you call out to him and he does. Tears are starting to well up in them. "Awe, why are you crying?"

"Feels good." And it does. He just can't help it with how he has been feeling all morning. This release that is building up is exactly what he needs.

But it doesn't come. You pull your hand away at the last second and watch his head snap back up to yours.

"No, no, noooo." Bill cries out and the tears start flowing. Black makeup runs down his cheeks.

"You said that you would take what I give you."

"I know, but I need to cum so bad." Bill grabs your thighs that are spread out on either side of him. The painted nails press into the soft flesh and leave crescents in their wake.

"I know and you will...If you're good."

"Yes, yes, yes." He chants over and over, replying to you and your touch that has started up again. His whines break free like his tears and flow throughout the hotel room. His cock is hard and throbbing in your hands, the tan tip a red hue. "Fuck, I'm close again." It takes no time for him to be at the edge and this time you grant him mercy.

"Look at me, Bill." He lifts his head and holds eye contact with you. "Good, now you can cum." It drops back to the mattress with his eyes rolling into his head.

Swears that you have trouble making out leave his lips and his hips buck so hard that they jostle you. Bill's cum spurts out in white lines across his stomach and your hand.

As he comes down from his high you press soft kisses across his damp cheeks and lips, whispering kind words to him. You wait for the heavy breathing to settle before you get up and grab a wet cloth to clean each other off. After disposing of it in the hotel washroom you come back to see him curled up in the bed sheets on his side. You crawl in behind him and wrap your arm across his lean waist.

"Are you feeling better?" You whisper into the back of his neck.

"Mhm, just not looking forward to the rest of the interviews today."

"Oh God, I forgot about them." You sigh and he laughs at your reaction. Bill and you spend the next few hours cuddled up and enjoying your time together.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #sub!bill kaulitz

569 notes · View notes

infamous-if · 1 year

Note

we focus so much on the angst (which i love too!!) but can we get some fluffy facts about being in a relationship with the cast pretty please? 💕💕

Yes, I’m sort of ready for some fluff haha

Being in a relationship with

Seven: means a lot of mushiness. Seven is very free with their love. They will stare at you a lot and when you confront them they’ll just shrug and say “sorry you’re just so [insert compliment here].” Seven likes to take a lot of photos and expect songs written about you and many mixtapes. That’s how they communicate everything they feel: through mixtapes and songs. As I mentioned before, seven is also touchy, though it depends on MC’s comfort level, but their default is touching all the time. Always connected, as if permanently linked. Seven will always have at least one finger on you at all times 😭 they’re a clinger, like I said, they sort of act like a needy puppy who wants attention all the time. Pouty. Whining, but in an endearing way.

Orion: means romance in private. Orion is good with all the normal relationship stuff he just tends to cringe more over it LMSJSJS but in private, he is surprisingly romantic and sheepish? He’ll set up a whole five-course date and then play it off like “it was nothing” Orion is also someone who does a lot of things without thinking about it. He’ll buy something for MC and very casually say “this made me think of you so here” and while it may seem like it’s a big deal, it just comes naturally to him. He’s a bit possessive, but not an unhealthy amount? More in a protective way. What you saw in the demo during the interview is what Orion is like with a partner. In public he is a bit less affectionate, but in private there will be a lot of lingering touches, a lot more affection. Orion wouldn’t want to leave MC’s side, even if he doesn’t always vocalize it. He also gets a bit more reckless and loses that sort of “workaholic” habit of his (aka willing to ditch work to stay with MC.)

Victoria: mush, mush, mush. She’s super affectionate and loves PDA and everything that comes with romance. Victoria will shower her partner with constant love and support. She isn’t shy to express how much she misses someone, and will write long letters about how she feels. She wants to shout her love on the rooftops and is a bit clingy like Seven. She wants to be smothered and smothers in return. Hugging constantly; always has herself wrapped around her partner. Random kisses, random gifts. She will take her partner to every event. She does get a bit jealous but nothing too bad, especially considering her experience. She’s a very sweet lover who is proud of her partner.

Seb: Seb can be quite shy. His affection comes with a lot of hesitance and is not as loud, but sweet all the same. He likes to ask permission a lot (‘can I kiss you?’ ‘can I hold your hand?’) and is the type to pick out a flower from the grass and gift it to MC lol I can’t say much about Seb aside from the fact that he does sort of act like a young kid who is in his first stages of love. He questions himself often but there are moments of confidence that are surprising. He’s also protective like Orion, and likes to be entangled all the time (see: hugging from behind.) he’s more of a go-with-whatever-MC-is-doing type. If MC wants to get wild, he’ll get wild. If not, he’s okay with that too.

G: a lot of touching, a lot of kissing. G won’t care about anyone else in the room if you’re around. They won’t even pay any mind to anyone else. G’s love can be sort of intense in the sense that they aren’t shy about sharing how they don’t gaf about anyone else but you. They want to be on top of their partner all the time. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. They want to spend all their time together. All their free time goes to them. G will include them in every convo. They won’t want to do anything fun or new without their partner. They’ll talk about them all the time. Ask where they are, look for them constantly. Moan about how they just want to talk to them or see them. G will become insufferable once they are apart. Like some bratty child. G turns into a completely different person when they’re in love.

August: means August is always thinking of their partner’s well-being. Always by their side. August will send them links to songs and videos that remind them of them and casually boast their partner’s accomplishments to anyone who will listen. They kind of lose a bit of their coolness and get a bit dorky around people they like; fumbling over their words, turning clumsy, getting shy. They’ll get real embarrassed to talk about their feelings or get mushy but they’ll do it if it makes their partner happy. They’ll think of them often and just want to chat about everything. August will be an open book with the person they love. Nothing is off limits. They laugh more, become more open and make more jokes. August becomes very free in the presence of the one they like. They’re a very different person (like G.)

#inbox #infamous cast #fluff #the poly is both Vic and g together #though their dynamics sort of bounce off each other #you know I feel like they fit so well reading it over #g and Vic are opposites but when they’re in love it feels very much like two sides of the same coin #ha

496 notes · View notes

arienai · 1 year

Text

You've heard the Miyazawa memes, now it's time to

Read Otherside Picnic

A post by me

What is it? Otherside Picnic is a book series by Japanese author Iori Miyazawa. They are often called light novels for marketing purposes, but are technically considered "full" science fiction novels. The series is loosely based off of Soviet science fiction novel Roadside Picnic, which itself inspired the film Stalker as well as the video game STALKER.

What is it about? At its core, Otherside Picnic is about two girls who stumble into a weird alternate universe filled with creatures from Japanese internet myths and creepypastas. They go into that world frequently to explore it.

It is primarily a series of novels as I mentioned, however, there are also anime and manga adaptations.

Otherside Picnic is yuri (F/F), explicitly so, however, only the novels have reached this point in the story. If you want canon lesbians, you want to read the novels. I cannot stress this enough.

Okay but what about the characters, are they good? I'm super biased but honestly these are some of the most tumblrina characters I've seen in a while and I'm shocked they aren't more popular.

Sorawo Kamikoshi had a deeply traumatic childhood (though she likes to deny it) and today is a self professed "grumpy otaku" at university who is extremely into spooky shit and creepypastas, which she tends to infodump about. She is very bad at making friends and before discovering the Otherside she often spent her time watching Dark Souls Let's Plays and Minecraft build videos. No, like, canonically. She is a huge loser and I love her so much.

Toriko Nishina was born and raised in Canada with her two lesbian moms but now she's going to university in Japan. She is extremely gay and knows it but is also a complete disaster about it. She has an outgoing personality but struggles to make friends unless she's attaching herself to a new cute girl. I don't want to get too far into spoiler territory but she has a violent streak and has some hot and extremely badass Tiktok Lesbian With an Axe moments.

There are a lot of other great characters too, but you'll have to read to meet them!

And it's explicitly gay, you say? YES, this is a lesbian romance story. Girls hold hands. Girls kiss (with tongue!) Girls ogle other girls' boobs. Apparently the latest volume (not yet available in English) amps it up even more 😳

You're telling me it's literally gay despite being written by the meme "yuri is two wild beasts/a field/etc." Guy? Yes.

Where did the memes come from then? They come from a couple of interviews with Miyazawa where he compared various abstract concepts to yuri. Some of this can be seen in his work, but for the most part it is a straightforward and easy to read lesbian story.

Okay! Where do I read it!: Since they are novels you can find them at many bookstores! You can also buy the ebooks for relatively cheap and read them on your phone.

I hate reading, can't I do the manga/anime? You can if you want but the anime doesn't really go beyond flirty territory with the two girls and the manga is still ongoing and hasn't hit the gay stuff yet. So it's up to you.

Is the series finished? No, it's ongoing. There are currently seven volumes available in English. But we have an extremely dedicated fanbase. Join ussssss you know you want to. Look at these two cuties

Anyway I have so many good things to say about this series, I love the way the main characters are outcasts who come together and help each other learn to love themselves. I love the spooky setting, I love the side characters and of course I love how gay it is, I feel like most weirdo disaster gays on here will find something here to like. And the characters are in their 20's!!! That's still relatively young but it's so nice to read gay stuff about people who are old enough to drink (which they do a lot of).

So yes in closing

Read Otherside Picnic

#my posts #otherside picnic #HERE IT IS THE MASTER POST

761 notes · View notes

mighty-ant · 4 months

Text

enough is enough

shoutout to @soy-s4uce for commissioning me!

ao3

It started with a little tickle in Launchpad’s throat.

He didn’t think anything of it. A cold swept through the kids just last week, a little thing that cooped them up in the mansion. Beakley kept them well supplied with tissues so they (Dewey) didn’t use their sleeves to wipe their noses and Donald commandeered the kitchen to make enough of Grandma Duck’s “famous chicken soup” to feed an army.

Without any adventures for a week, Mr. McDee begrudgingly attended to the growing demands of his company—after the kids begged, cajoled, and threatened him into not going anywhere exciting without them while Donald and Della glared daggers at him over their heads.

Mr. McDee had his typical Richest Duck in the World-type business meetings, plus he was still interviewing candidates for a new board of directors since his last one didn’t work out so great.

The meetings lasted hours, and took Mr. McDee not just out of the city but all over the state and across the country. These bigwigs were scattered everywhere, and he not only wanted to meet with them, but everyone who worked with them. Better safe than sorry and all that.

All of which meant that for a whole week, Launchpad was really only around the family as Mr. McDee’s driver, just like old times.

Oh, he was flying Mr. McDee too, but only because Della hadn’t wanted to do it. Since it was a business trip, Launchpad was expected to do a lot of sitting around and waiting to drive Mr. McDee to the next appointment, to which Della had immediately declared, “Bor-ing!” before running off to set up Legends of Legendquest for her and Huey to play.

But Launchpad didn’t mind, as much as he would’ve liked to join Drake on his current case: tracking down a runaway theater troupe turned theatrical bank robbers. At least he was being useful here. And besides, he planned to spend his free time while away rewatching some of the Darkwing Duck episodes he’d saved on his phone and trying to decipher the memes Gosalyn was always sending him.

Drake tended to worry about Launchpad when he went anywhere with Mr. McDee and the family, convinced they invited craziness just by breathing, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. So Launchpad planned to text Drake, too, to let him know he was okay. Maybe Launchpad would even call him when breaks in his patrol allowed, so that he could close his eyes and listen to the lilt of Drake’s voice and pretend they were side by side, so close their arms were pressed together. He wasn’t quite brave enough to hold Drake’s hand in real life, but Launchpad would bet anything that they were warm and lined with calluses.

Launchpad had almost been looking forward to the business trip. Time apart from Drake and Gosalyn just meant reunions were always that much sweeter, making him feel fit to bursting with a kind of joy he’d never known before, like he’d swallowed the sun.

Gosalyn usually threw herself at him the second he stepped through the door, from the higher up the better, and would hang off his back while he swept Drake into a bearhug that was eagerly returned. There was nothing quite like the feeling of Drake’s arms wrapped snug around his middle, or how his head fit perfectly under Launchpad’s chin.

But after Della bolted, Mr. McDee pat Launchpad on the arm with a fond, absentminded sort of smile. “Ach, that girl. Well, you’ll be enough for a quick flight, eh, McQuack?”

It was a rude wakeup call; a punch to the gut that left him breathless, impossible to brace against because he never saw it coming. But maybe he should’ve. That was just the story of his life, wasn’t it? Good Enough McQuack.

In the moment, Launchpad had smiled blithely. What else could he do?

“You got it, boss!”

Though as he packed an overnight bag, as he gassed up the plane, as they took-off and through all the long lonely hours of flight, he burned inside. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling: shame and embarrassment and a deep, deep sadness going down like a bad burrito, emotional heartburn without a cure.

He was eighteen when he left home, Loopy having taken his spot in the Flying McQuacks.

Launchpad remembered squinting against the glare of the sun, watching her pull off loops and dives he never could without crashing first, when his dad clapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You were A-OK, son, but now we’ve got a real pilot on our hands!”

He’d traveled a little over ten years before settling in Duckburg, bouncing between undersea palaces and werewolf communes and even a ninja clan or two before eventually wearing out his welcome and being encouraged to move on. He thought he’d found a home with the Ducks, but even though they cared about him, it was clear that he was just a placeholder for someone better.

He was thirty-five when Della came home and took back the plane that was rightfully hers. Thirty-five when he met Drake, and it felt like a dream come true. But all dreams had to end, right?

He’d never said anything to Launchpad about moving on, not yet, but maybe it was only a matter of time. Even he didn’t have to be a genius to know that it had to bother Drake, Launchpad’s…Launchpadness. It was a rotating list of screw-ups: clumsy, slow, bad driver, bad pilot, take your pick. He was a pretty poor excuse for a sidekick, not that Drake had much of a choice in the matter.

But maybe he did now, with Gosalyn’s presence in their lives his life becoming more permanent. She already had a mask and a hood to wear when she joined them on patrol (lovingly stitched together by Drake), and she was trying out the codename Quiverwing, which was as good a superhero title as Launchpad had ever heard.

Drake deserved everything, more than Launchpad could give. And Launchpad wasn’t a jealous man, not really, but sometimes when the Justice Ducks got together and he saw Drake—Darkwing—standing beside great heroes like Penumbra or Gizmoduck, each of them confident, larger than life, he saw how much Drake belonged next to them, and how much Launchpad…didn’t.

He wasn’t a superhero. He didn’t even have a costume, and he wouldn’t be able to think one up if he tried. As a kid, he tied a towel around his neck for a cape (after getting in trouble for tearing up his bed sheets) and pretended his Nana’s old church hat was a cowl. But Launchpad wasn’t a kid anymore, and he knew better than to think he would ever be good enough for Darkwing.

It was a lot of things that added up to one big problem, and the problem was him. Everything he wasn’t, everything he lacked. Even when Drake smiled at him, next to him on the couch or beside him on patrol, something caught in his chest and he couldn’t stop looking for the slightest wrinkle in his forehead, the barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes, any sign of the disappointment he had to feel. Disappointment that Launchpad couldn’t do anything about.

Unless he stepped back, removed himself from the equation, and let Drake and Gos flourish into a happy family without him. Just like he had with the Ducks. Just like he had with his own family.

They’d call him when they needed him, and Launchpad would always come running.

These thoughts didn’t go away by the time Launchpad finally made his way back to St. Canard. He barely slept that long week, sitting alone in the various plane hangars or alone in various parking lots while Mr. McDee’s went to meeting after meeting.

Drake had checked in on him, because he was amazing like that, and they hadn’t seen each other in a while (sixteen days, but who was counting?). Though Launchpad bulldozed through any questions about his well-being to ask about joining Drake on patrol once he was back.

“Oh, uh, sure! Yeah, I was going to scope out the harbor next, see if I could find another one of Tuskernini’s stashes. Are you sure, though? You don’t wanna get some rest after flying all day?”

The answer would always be yes, even when his exhaustion weighed down his limbs and he shivered with fever. Launchpad couldn’t risk it; any call might be the last one.

Launchpad couldn’t risk it. There was a ticking clock in his head that he couldn’t see, but he knew the timer was winding down. Everything felt precious and finite now that he was aware of it, reminding him that no good thing could last forever, especially for someone who was never good enough to begin with.

“Pfft, who needs sleep? I can fly a plane with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back.”

“I believe you, but please don’t. Gos and I want you back in one piece.”

—

When Launchpad pried his eyes open, the world around him was dark and hazy at the edges. His entire body pulsed with a bone-deep ache and his mind was foggy, thoughts harder to latch onto than loose balloon strings. But he’d been buried in an avalanche once, so he couldn’t be doing that bad, right? Comparatively?

Although, this time he didn’t know where he was and he was too bleary-eyed to recognize anything around him.

Had he crashed? Launchpad vaguely recalled being in the air, the grip of a familiar yoke in his hands, but that could’ve been any time in the last twenty years.

Wherever he was now, he was warm, and whatever he was laying on was soft. A bed?

Then, above him, a light. And casting a shadow over him was a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere.

Though Launchpad’s vision was still poor, he’d have to be blind not to admire the way the light shone pink through Drake’s feathers, always inviting Launchpad to touch. He obviously knew better but the temptation was always there.

He smiled up at Drake instinctively—there’d never be a time that he wasn’t thrilled by the sight of him—before ever noticing his expression. But then, notice he did.

Drake’s hat was missing, leaving his hair in disarray, his maskless face revealed eyes dark and narrowed with worry. The corner of his beak, where his answering smile would normally be, was pinched in a frown.

Launchpad knew what this expression meant: danger.

Someone was in trouble. Who? Not Drake, he didn’t look hurt other than the usual bruise here and there, and a tear in the shoulder of the suit. Definitely not Launchpad. Gosalyn? Where was Gosalyn?

Launchpad didn’t realize he’d started sitting up until Drake was pushing him back down with a hand on his shoulder, gentle but unyielding as steel. He was so much stronger than he looked, and Launchpad already thought he was the strongest man he’d ever known.

“No one’s in trouble,” Drake soothed, and Launchpad slumped immediately in relief. Had he been talking outloud? Or did Drake just know him that well?

“Well, except you.”

If Launchpad had the wherewithal, he would’ve blanched at the sudden chill in the room. There was an edge to Drake’s voice he normally reserved for supervillains and people who didn’t tip. He’d never heard it directed at himself.

Drake came closer, like he knew Launchpad’s eyesight wasn’t working too good right now. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. He looked so tired.

“Wha-what happened?” Launchpad stammered in a rush. How long had he been asleep?

He knew, instinctively, that he was the one to put that expression on Drake’s face. Even barely conscious, shame and embarrassment burned through Launchpad, a deep, deep sadness going down like a bad burrito. He was always making things worse for the people he cared about.

“You don’t remember?” Drake snapped, more desperate than angry. “You almost got yourself killed, Launchpad!”

His tired eyes were wild, and he looked like he wanted to get up and pace, throw his hands around like he did when he was frustrated, but he just gripped a fistful of Launchpad’s blankets tighter. Blankets. Bed. Launchpad was lying in Drake’s bed in the Tower.

Launchpad almost got himself killed walking out his front door sometimes, that was no big deal. But even achy and groggy, waking up in Drake’s bed had a blush flooded up Launchpad’s neck and pooled in his cheeks. He cleared his throat to distract (himself) from it.

Launchpad struggled to sit up again. This time Drake let him.

“I’m fine!” he insisted, voice hoarse and sleep rough. It felt as if he’d gargled with rocks. “I once fought off armed goons after getting bitten by a big pile of poisonous snakes! Or, wait, is it venomous? What is it when they bite you?”

“Venomous,” Drake confirmed weakly, hands hovering uselessly in front of him. “You really don’t remember what happened, do you?”

“I, uh…” Launchpad looked down, noticing for the first time that he was wearing pajamas. But not his. And definitely not Drake’s. “We…went on patrol?”

Drake closed his eyes, like he was in pain. That was definitely the wrong answer.

“We went on patrol,” he confirmed, and Launchpad almost perked up. But Drake clearly wasn’t finished. “We went on patrol to the docks, where we thought Tuskernini might be stashing some of the money from his recent string of bank robberies. And on this patrol, you conveniently forgot to mention that you had a 102 degree fever!”

Now Launchpad was the one holding onto the blankets, his palms sweating. “S-sure. But-but we caught Tuskernini!” he recalled.

Drake threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, at first! But he got away when you passed out and fell in the bay!”

“W-wait, what? No I didn’t.” Forget sweating, Launchpad had never been colder in his life. He didn’t remember falling in the water, but he wondered if he’d felt like he did now: sinking into pinprick darkness so frigid and so deep it stole the breath from his lungs.

“You almost drowned,” Drake pressed, eyes overly shiny (just from reflecting the bright desk lamp, Launchpad was sure). He let out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “I had to let Tuskernini go when I jumped in after you. Then I radioed SHUSH for an evac and one of their doctors said you could rest here. That was about…how many hours ago now, W.A.N.D.A?”

“6.28 hours, Darkwing.”

Drake was still in costume. Had he…waited for Launchpad to wake up? That felt like wishful thinking.

Launchpad wasn’t the guy people worried about. Sure he got knocked around on adventures sometimes, but he always got back up, bruised and battered or otherwise. It’s what everyone expected of him. To be just good enough, until someone better came along.

Drake sat down heavily on the side of the bed. His fire had been snuffed out, and he looked tired and lost again as he stared down at his hands.

Launchpad watched him in profile, the ache of helpless love in his chest more painful than any tumble into icy waters.

“I just don’t get it,” Drake sighed. “Why would you take a risk like that? And why wouldn’t you tell me you were feeling that bad? Just…what were you thinking?”

If Launchpad’s ribs weren’t throbbing like they’d been used as a marimba, he might’ve laughed.

Drake had to know. Didn’t he? That for him, Launchpad would get beat down again by every supervillain in Calisota? Give up flying, borrow a time machine and save Jim for him, all without Drake ever needing to ask.

“DW, l…I did it for you,” Launchpad said helplessly.

Drake stiffened, like he sometimes did when he got hurt doing something dumb and didn’t want Launchpad to know. But when he lifted his head, there was a small, anguished crease between his eyebrows Launchpad hadn’t seen since Drake fell to his knees before the fire and ruin that was Jim’s last stand.

“For me?” he repeated slowly, as if wishing he’d heard wrong.

Launchpad nodded a little nervously. “Y-yeah. It was my idea for you to be Darkwing, y’know? I should be able to watch your back and I didn’t wanna let you down.” Not the full truth, but good enough. Drake didn’t need to know about the countdown in his head, or how his latest stunt might’ve cut down on the time they had left together.

Drake still looked ill at ease. He wrapped one hand around the clasp of his cape, glancing down at his costume with a furrowed brow. “I don’t want you feeling obligated to come to St. Canard,” he said stiffly and extremely un-Drakelike. “You-you don’t owe me anything, LP. I made the choice, not you.”

He and Drake had learned to speak paragraphs in only a glance, and Launchpad instantly recognized Drake’s poorly hidden (to him) anxiety for what it was. It was a fear Drake had expressed at the start, too. That Launchpad’s hero worship of Jim might extend to Drake, impair his judgment and make him blind to his flaws.

But Launchpad loved Drake for his flaws (and all the good stuff too, of course), because unlike Jim, Drake knew he had them and worked to be better.

Launchpad’s own anxieties fell away under the strength of his certainty, his faith in his best friend. “I know. I promise, I know. I’m here for Drake, not Darkwing.” His voice still rasped, sore from his illness and impromptu dip in the bay, but his conviction was undamaged.

And for a moment, Drake smiled, tired but relieved, and it lifted the strain from his features like taking off a veil.

It didn’t last long, and Launchpad’s heart dropped when Drake looked away, his silence pensive. He took a breath, hands trembling in his lap.

When Drake pinned Launchpad with his stare, he was sure his heart stopped entirely.

“I don’t want you to push yourself like that. Not for me, or anyone else. I knew it was a bad idea to let you go back and forth from here to Duckburg, but I didn’t think it would almost get you killed!”

Launchpad flinched. There it was then.

Six months wasn’t a bad run, right?

He dropped his gaze as he fiddled with his pajama sleeve, feeling awkward and out of place in Drake’s bed, Drake’s tower. He managed a wavering smile, clenching his jaw against the pesky burn of tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Sorry, DW. I know I messed up. Just a matter of time, right? I know I’m not good enough to keep around long term, but it was fun while it lasted.”

Dead silence greeted him, like the kind before a bomb went off. He wasn’t even sure he could hear Drake’s breathing, but then Launchpad’s own heartbeat pounding in his ears was kinda distracting.

When he glanced up, Drake was already staring at him, but he didn’t look relieved or guilty or anything like what Launchpad imagined he’d look like when Launchpad let him off the hook. He mostly looked…stunned. Like in the split second after you got hit over the head with a comically large mallet (there’d been a startling number of Quackerjack copycats since the Fearsome Four invaded their reality).

“LP,” he managed, as confusion flooded his expression. “What are you talking about?”

Uncertainty replaced Launchpad’s earlier feeling of resignation, and he looked everywhere but at Drake. This really wasn’t how he thought things would go. “I, uh…same thing you’re talking about?”

A warm hand wrapped about Launchpad’s knuckles and his eyes shot up to Drake at once. “I was going to ask if you’d be willing to move to St. Canard,” Drake said quietly. “W-with me. No more driving back and forth.”

“Oh. That’s…I was…” Launchpad stumbled over himself like an idiot, unable to tear his eyes away from Drake’s. A sickening sort of hope was building in the back of his throat but he didn’t dare voice it. Wishful thinking, he told himself. Wishful thinking.

But Drake’s voice was low, and so soft in its sincerity. “Launchpad. What have I done to make you think you’re not enough?” His grip around Launchpad’s hand tightened, as if someone was trying to snatch him away.

Launchpad quailed. “Nothing! It wasn’t—it wasn’t you—”

That just seemed to upset Drake even more. Unstoppable as an incoming train, he barreled over Launchpad and left him speechless in his wake. “And what if I want to keep you around forever, huh? What if I’m always going to need you?”

And Launchpad just…stopped. Because he couldn’t even begin to imagine what that looked like.

He knew what to look for when people wanted him gone, whether they were subtle about it or just told him to his face to get lost. He’d receive every sort of brush-off under the sun and accepted them all with a smile. But being asked to stay? That he had no frame of reference for.

“Why would you want that?” he asked without thinking.

At some point, Drake had stood back up in his agitation. But he never let go of Launchpad’s hand, and though Launchpad hadn’t intended it that way, he used it to guide Drake back onto the bed beside him.

Drake sank onto the edge with a huff, searching Launchpad’s face imploringly.

“Because I love you,” he said, so, so easily. Like it was a well known fact that Launchpad had simply forgotten.

This time, it was Launchpad’s grip that went tight, possibly to the point of pain, but he couldn’t even think straight enough to apologize. Or let go.

He used to date a lot more after leaving home, looking for someone to share his life with. He’d wanted a family of his own eventually, one he could devote himself to completely, and have that love returned, for once. But while he and his old partners had plenty of fun together, none of them were the right fit. It had hurt him to leave them, and vice versa, but he’d been able to do it, and move on. But Drake?

I dunno, this whole thing sounds like it could get…

Dangerous?

He’d known ever since he watched Drake look up, the spark of realization in his eyes catching and turning into a blaze of determination as he put Darkwing’s hat back where it belonged—he’d known that there would be no coming back from Drake. No moving on. Drake was it for him.

Launchpad had found the one person he’d been looking for almost his entire life, and he hadn’t even been searching at the time.

And Drake was in front of him now, getting twitchy, because Launchpad had been quiet for too long.

He exhaled in a rush, almost feeling lightheaded by the end of it. “Drake, I…I love you too. Of course I love you. How couldn’t I?” Setting the long-trapped words free, quiet and sincere, straight from his heart to Drake’s face…it had him feeling about ready to float away.

Drake barked that short, sharp laugh of his, one of Launchpad’s favorite sounds. “Do you want the list alphabetically or numerically?” he joked, smiling a true brilliant, relieved smile that Launchpad wanted to kiss off his face. Like a shock to the system, he wondered if Drake would let him.

He muffled a cough against his arm.

Maybe when he wasn’t contagious anymore.

But that seemed to be enough to remind Drake of what got them here in the first place, and he sobered a bit.

“I’m serious about you moving to St. Canard. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, LP. Burning the candle at both ends like this…what if something happens to you and I’m not there? You shouldn’t have to deal with killer robots or venomous snakes or-or supervillains all on your own! When we’re together we can watch each other's backs, and I think we make a pretty good team.” Drake grinned wryly, but his smile soon slipped a bit, voice turning hesitant. “I don’t want to make you chose between us and your family—”

“You’re my family,” Launchpad interrupted without thinking. He immediately flushed with mortification. But a glance at Drake revealed that he was blushing just as hotly, his face pretty and pink, and failing spectacularly to hide a pleased little smile. Launchpad decided to be brave and smiled back. “You and Gos,” he said, more firmly.

It was his turn to hesitate now.

“But… Darkwing Duck doesn’t need a sidekick. He never did.”

Drake leaned forward. And kept leaning forward.

Launchpad froze up when Drake pressed his temple against Launchpad’s own clammy forehead. Drake’s free hand settled on Launchpad’s chest, over his heart, and it thumped madly under his palm.

Launchpad had just started to settle into this new embrace, one hand coming up to press tentatively against Drake’s lower back, when Drake spoke again into the short, warm distance between them.

“Darkwing Duck isn’t real. Or, wasn’t. Not until you came along. And yeah, maybe I don’t need a sidekick. But I do want a partner.”

“And you want…me?” Launchpad hated how small his voice sounded but everything in him was still screaming that this was all too good to be true. That he was still asleep with Drake watching over him, but no more.

Drake’s hand on his chest tightened, gripping a fistful of fabric. “Of course, you,” he said, gentle but unwavering. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Launchpad shrugged, flustered but unable to help himself. “You don’t want someone, I dunno…better?”

“What’s ‘better’ than the man I love?”

“I…I didn’t…when…wow. That was a really good line,” Launchpad breathed, and he laughed for the first time that night. But it felt like his first breath of fresh air in years.

“You think so? I practiced a little, y’know, cuz I wanted to get it right, but I hoped for a more romantic setting. Some candlelight maybe, a nice sunset behind us.” Drake pushed Launchpad back onto the bed, following him down to kiss his forehead. “Now get some rest, partner, so we can work on that first date.”

#ant writes #drakepad #ducktales 2017 #poor lp is still in the angsty pining phase while drake's ready to pick out curtains #ducktales #darkwing duck #launchpad mcquack #gosalyn's staying at honker's dont worry

96 notes · View notes